


Last Wishes

by onceuponanovel



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crossover Pairing, F/M, Family Death, Healing, Non-Canon Relationship, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rumbelle - Freeform, Rumitch, Sexual Abuse, everlark, hg au, hg ouat crossover, ouat AU, take the archive warning seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 18:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9338570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponanovel/pseuds/onceuponanovel
Summary: Bachelor by choice, Hank Abernathy finds out after the death of his cousin, he now has Peter Mellark in his custody. Reluctantly at the suggestion of his lawyer, he hires expert Ruby Lucas to help care for the teenage boy just so he can honor his deceased cousin's last wishes.





	1. Chapter 1

October

Storybrooke, Maine

 

The sharp ringing from the front woke Hank Abernathy up from a less than restful sleep. Rubbing his hand over his face he’d made the mistake of sleeping in his office chair and easing up, he knew he’d be paying for the rest of the day.

“Hank, phone,” Ian Gold called out in his rough brogue. Hank had hired the man years ago because it apparently gave the Scottish pub an authentic feel of being transported to the highlands. But what the simpletons didn’t know or didn’t bother to tell the difference between the highland brogue and that of the lowlands.

Raising a hand to rub the knots settling in the back of his neck, Hank moseyed around the desk. When he reached for the door handle, he swung it shut, but the lock didn’t catch and he was too tired or too lazy to get it just waved it off. All he wanted now as coffee and to know who was annoying enough to bother him so early in the day. The pub had only closed a few hours ago.

As he reached the bar counter, Ian handed over the old rotary phone with a plunk on the surface, it was the same contraption that came with the place when he purchased the property going on twenty-five years ago.

Taking a seat on the barstool and rubbing his blurry eyes, “Yeah, what is it?” Hank grumbled into the receiver. Thankfully Ian was quick to slide a mug of black coffee his way.

“Mr. Henry Abernathy?” the voice on the other end was gravely and unattractive

“Speaking,” he took his first gulp.

The person on the other end cleared their throat in the receiver which was just as unpleasant as their voice. “I regret to inform you that your cousin Brenna Mellark died last week. Her will was read this morning.”

 _Brenna_. That took him back. Just hearing her name stirred up old memories he was sure he’d put to rest. He couldn’t remember the last time he ever spoke with her. Let alone saw her. That was quite a shame. Brenna was one of the few good people in this screwed up world. Somehow it seemed unfair that she had to leave and he was still here. She was always the kind of person to do good in the world, where he liked to cause as much mischief as possible.

His shoulders slumped as he rested his elbows on the counter, “Aw, shit, what was it?”

“It was her kidney's, sir. Renal failure,” Brenna’s attorney replied and without one ounce of emotion. If he could, he’d love to reach through the line and throttle this person.

“Everything all right, mate?” Ian asked refilling his coffee mug.

Shaking his head and waving off his friend, he wanted to know more about Brenna and her unexpected death before divulging anymore of the details. “Uh, so why are you calling me?”

“Mr. Abernathy,” being called Mr. Abernathy was ridiculous. Anyone who knew him, knew he hated being called Mr. Abernathy. “I've been in contact with your attorney, Belle French…”

He rolled his eyes. He did the utmost to avoid his new lawyer at all costs. After his long time attorney had kicked the bucket almost a year ago, he had to go to work in search of a new person to fill the shoes and somehow he ended up choosing Ms. Belle French. Bright eyed, precocious and a goody two shoes to her very core.

“She will fill you in on all the details. Ms. Mellark's last wishes was for you to be caretaker and legal guardian of her only child Peter Mellark. It was effective immediately after the will was executed.”

_Will. Heir. Guardian. Last wishes. And who was this kid, Peter?_

He really should have taken more time to keep in contact with Brenna. Every year she called him on his birthday, sent him Christmas cards and all the while he never reciprocated any of the kindness to her. There were a handful of regrets he had in his life, but not giving Brenna the time of day was slowly slipping to number one on his list.

“She must have been scraping the bottom of the barrel to come up with that pisser of an idea.”

More coughing and other noises that Hank didn’t want to know where or how they were made. “Mr. Abernathy,” the lawyer continued to hack into the phone, “I suggest you set up a meeting with Ms. French. She received the case this afternoon...”

“Uh, sure. Get her over here, whatever,” he dropped the phone back onto its cradle and wiped his hand over his face and rubbed the bit of his five o’clock shadow. He needed to get home to shower and of course shave and get back here for whenever his lawyer would arrive. Lord knows she’d give more than her two cents worth.

“What was that all about?” Ian asked, bringing him back to the present.

He exhaled. “My cousin, Brenna, she died last week.”

Ian made the sign of the cross, “My condolences. You were close then?”

At one time, sure. Brenna was probably the only person he still liked, at least what was left of his miserable family.

“Naw, well,” he said with shaking his head slowly stepping back from the bar stool, wincing from the knots in his back. “When we were young, yeah I guess. But we haven't spoken in forever.” That was all his doing. Brenna had more than reached out to him hoping for an olive branch. She was the only person who really did care about him and he just took it for granted.

“I'm sorry to hear it,” Ian flipped a towel over his shoulder, then rested his palms on the edge of the bar.

Hank stood there for a moment longer letting the news set in as he strolled over numbly to the coatrack and snatched up his trench and slipped it on, “My lawyer, Ms. French,” he pickec up his fedora next and used it to gesture to Ian, “She'll probably be stopping by sometime today or tomorrow.”

Ian’s brow narrowed, “You're not thinking of selling are you?”

“Hell no,” he stated emphatically. Placing his hat on top his head, as it looked like rain. “It's about, about something else is all.” That would have to be enough to appease his friend.

 _Something else._ He thought as he got into his SUV, started the engine and drove off. It was far more than that, but how on earth did Brenna think he’d be a suitable person to take care of her kid? How old was this kid anyway?

He continued along the line of self-questioning as he parked the car in the cul de sac. For a moment he sat there staring at the house he’d chosen. Three stories, more rooms than he could ever use, he only got the damn thing cause for the first time he could actually afford something ostentatious. He’d been regretting it ever since. Just a reminder now of his wretched loneliness.

He was right as it had started to rain on the way home and he quickly jogged from the car to the front door,  unlocking it only to hear Beverley, the longtime housekeeper, humming along to her music, ear phones in and oblivious to him as she moved from room to room downstairs. Not wanting to disturb her or even rehash the news all over again, he climbed the stairs and went straight to his bedroom at the end of the hall.

Evidence that Hannah had been there: freshly dusted, the carpet shown signs of vacuum marks, and there was the annoying scent she insisted freshened his gloomy house.

He’d wait for a shower later. Right now all he wanted to do was stretch out on the bed and get some proper sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

After a quick bite to eat and a shower, he was ready to head back to work, nodding at Beverley’s handiwork throughout the house as he tossed his trench coat over his arm, but as always chose to wear the hat as he exited the estate, his goal was to return to the pub hopefully before his lawyer did.

Ms. Belle, as she preferred, was supposedly going to make her grand entrance. For the life of him he couldn’t recall what she looked like. She had dark hair, or at least he thought she did. Wore suits, but wasn’t that the basic uniform for uptight attorneys?

“Has that lawyer come around?” he said as he entered the establishment, sauntering over to the bar and reached over the counter taking a cup. Ian was ready with the coffee pot in hand and was quick to fill up the mug.

With a smirk planted on his lips, Ian gestured with his free hand to the petite lady sitting at the bar with a her fingers wrapped around a coffee mug as well, “As a matter of fact...” he’d forgotten she was practically half his size in height, but made up for it with ridiculously high heels.

“Yes, that lawyer came around.” When she stood, she was nearly she same height as Ian who stood no more than 5’6. “Mr. Abernathy, I presume, Ms. Belle French, nice to meet you officially.”

Up until now they’d only ever conducted business over the phone and he was thankful for that. Now he had the displeasure of meeting her face to face.

Hank turned to a rather amused Ian, “And it didn't occur to you to tell me?”

The Scotsman had a good laugh as he pointed out, “I have to deal with drunks, twenty-something's, and the occasional vomit. I wasn't about to turn her away so hastily.”

“Get back to work,” Hank grumbled to his friend to which Ian only had a good laugh. Hank took the mug and sauntered towards the rear of the room, motioning over his shoulder for Belle to follow along. He didn’t bother to see if she’d come along, but he could hear her heels clicking behind him down the hall and to the office door that was still ajar.

He didn’t bother offering her a seat. He didn’t want her to get too comfortable or god forbid to think she was at all welcome. “Now how do we deal with this _issue_? I'm hoping this doesn't take long. As you can tell I have a business to run.”

Belle pursed her thin pink lips and narrowed her blue eyes at him, “It's a bar.”

“Pub,” He corrected her. If he had a dime for every time he had to point out the obvious, he’d have been able to retire a decade ago. “It's a pub. And I own a brewery chain.”

She raised a brow, “Not hard to believe.” She took a seat more in spite of him than anything. “Mr. Abernathy, I need you to take this seriously. It is a delicate matter.”

He was willing to cooperate. Anything to get this over and done with. “Then drop the professional act for one moment darlin' and just start already.” He eased into his desk chair with a smug smirk on his lips. Her face wrinkled in disgust was reward enough.

Belle scooted to the edge of her seat and wagged her finger at him like one would a child, “I am not your darlin’. Please do not call me, darlin'. I am Ms. French or Belle.”

He nodded thoroughly amused. Crossing his leg over to rest on his knee, he smirked, “Whatever you say, darlin'?”

She narrowed her blue eyes at him and sat back not willing to humor him. “I'm here because of Peter Mellark.” She began pulling out a yellow folder out of her briefcase. “I met with him this morning. He is doing well considering his situation. Brenna Mellark stipulated she wanted you as legal guardian.” He took the folder from her reluctantly. “Per her attorney, she was adamant, she wouldn't be swayed.”

He leaned back in his chair, taking time to look over the case. Most of the legal mumbo jumbo all boiled down to the fact that Brenna was determined that he was going to get her kid whether he liked it or not. The only thing he wondered was: _why him?_

“And there's no way out of this?”

Belle squared her shoulders, her anger simmering. “I would appreciate if you'd actually treat this case with the respect it deserves. Peter is a wonderful young man.” She didn’t try to hide her frustration. “He needs you to step up and do what is best for him.”

“There has to be some loophole to Brenna naming me legal guardian for her kid. We haven't spoken in over a decade. You have to agree with me that I am the last person to be someone's wannabe dad.”

Belle slowly nodded. “Yes, that we can agree upon.” She let out a deep breath before handing off another folder. “You can wave your legal rights for full custody of Peter Mellark.”

He couldn’t snatch the second document out of her small hands fast enough. “Now why didn't you start with that?” He flipped it open and took a gander.

“Sir, please?” she implored as she snatched the folder back and looked as if she were going to run out of the room with it. “I need you to take this seriously.”

“Aren't I?” he narrowed his brows to look sympathetic, while his voice is condescending. “I do apologize,” he added with his special touch of sarcasm. “Just hand over the papers to wave custody. Let some other cousin deal with the brat.”

Either she didn’t want to deal with him anymore or she just didn’t care to fight anymore Claire chucked the folder over. “Fine,” she watched as he took out an ink pen and giving it a once over. He always read everything twice before signing. “But before you sign your autograph, I must inform you that this will allow Child Protection Service to step in and take over from this moment on.”

The tip of the pen hovered over the paper. “You mean foster care?” He straightened his back to meet her gaze.

That was it. That was why Brenna chose him. He wasn’t sure if he was at peace with this or completely pissed off. Maybe it was a little of both.

“Yes. There is no other close relative. You're the only cousin currently not incarcerated.”

“Yay for me,” his spoke wryly. That certainly didn’t say much for him or his family. Brenna had always been the good one. In some ways Belle reminded him of Brenna. “Means I haven't been caught yet.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, “Mr. Abernathy.”

“Where's the kid now?”

“In custody of the welfare office waiting to hear from you. Now you have to decide what is best for Peter. Choose wisely, Mr. Abernathy…” He handed the waver back to her unsigned without a second thought. “Are you certain?”

“Are you a woman?”

And so returned her pursed lips and narrowed eyes. She took the folders and stuffed them back into her briefcase. “Good-day, Mr. Abernathy. I'll see to filing this personally.”

“You do that, darlin',” he added just for fun.

She was about to reach the door to the office when she turned on her heel to face him, “Oh, and Mr. Abernathy now that you've accepted your role in Peter's life. We can expect to see more of each other.”

He met her halfway giving her a look over just to get a rise out of her, “Well, you'll have to buy me dinner first if you expect me to put out. I'm simply not that kind of guy, darlin'.”

She yanked open the door and slammed it shut behind her so hard it could be felt throughout the building. So could the clicking of her heels all the way to the front entrance.

Hank gave it a moment before returning to the front of the pub. A few loyal customers and avid alcoholics were what kept his business thriving.

“What did you say to get that kind of a reaction?” both sets of eyes were on the door wondering if Belle would make a second appearance.

Hank shrugged, “You know, just the classic Abernathy charm.”

“So what about this legacy I heard her mention,” Ian added, a towel in hand and a glass in the other, drying it then moving onto the next. “She was mumbling about it on the way out.”

Hank nodded slowly giving Ian a side glance, “Apparently you really can inherit kids.”

 

* * *

 

           

Sprinting up the sidewalk with a decent speed, Ruby Lucas did her best to avoid all the puddles from the recent rain that morning. The air was crisp for this October afternoon as she ran past the local hub of Storybrooke’s Main Street with her ear buds in listening to her adrenaline playlist that had been stuck on _Imagine Dragons_ playing on the loop.

She needed to clear her mind and hopefully return to her apartment and spend the rest of the night getting lost in her novel. She had everything figured out, just not the ending.

Coming up to an intersection, she tried to act like a pro and check her pulse. It was all for show, she wasn’t a real runner. The next distraction came from her phone and its jingle alerting her to a text from her not-so-little brother Jeff and that put a smile on her lips. It hummed through her earbuds drowning out the music momentarily. She didn’t think anything of hearing the sound of a car barreling down the street causing her look up abruptly as the wheels hit the puddle by the curb.

 _Wait, it rained today_. She looked up just in time to be doused with muddy water that had overflowed from the sewer drain.

Her soggy shoulders slumped and wet rat hair clung to her skin and she fought the urge to cry, “Hate my horrible life,” she muttered resolved to turn around and go home. This time walking back to her apartment the other way groaning internally the entire way.

She half expected to see Belle, her roommate lounging on the couch, but was grateful she was alone. She kicked off her shoes and dashed to the shower. But not even the scalding hot water and almost a half a container of body wash could get rid of her bad day.

Once the water turned lukewarm, Ruby turned off the shower and dried off with a warm towel, thankfully the towel rack hung directly over the register, it was nice on chilly autumn days like today.

As she was giving her hair a good ring, Ruby thought she heard the grumbling of Belle’s voice in the living room. It was a good thing she used her time in the shower to weep about her day, she hated feeling vulnerable.

Throwing on her sweats and an old t-shirt, throwing her long dark hair into a messy bun, she would deal with the discarded exercise gear later.

Exiting the bathroom, she found Belle still in her skirt and dress blouse, but had already discarded her five inch heels as well as her suit jacket. Her roommate was not settled on the couch with a bag of dove chocolates and a glass of wine in her hand. Her innocent looking friend looked up sheepishly as she had popped another piece of chocolate into her mouth. Not bothering to read the Chinese fortune cookie type of message that came along with it.

“Bad day as well, huh?” Ruby strolled over to the couch and plopped down into the empty spot.

Belle held up the bag, “There's plenty for you too.” Ruby stuck her hand in and pulled out a handful for herself.

Taking her glass of stale water, she deposited it into the half-dead houseplant that had been gifted to her by her brother’s girlfriend, and poured the remaining bit of wine into the tall glass. “Don't mind if I do.” She took a nice long sip of the spirits, already nibbling on her first piece of chocolate. “So how shitty was your day?”

Belle exhaled and rolled her eyes, “I gained a new case and it's a real doozy. This man-” her friend shook her head slowly. “I'll be lucky if I'm not an alcoholic by the end.”

Ruby clanked glasses with Belle’s, “You seem to be off to a good start.”

“It shouldn't be long before this boy is taken from him and put into the foster care system,” Belle added with a sad chuckle. “I think that's what is bugging me so much. I feel utterly useless.”

Hearing that, there was no way she could really compare her horrible day to the weight that was currently on her friend’s shoulders. “I'm sorry,” Ruby murmured.

Belle dug into the bag of chocolate and angrily ripped the foil away, “This is not why I became a lawyer.” She spat out half in frustration half in defeat. “I actually thought I was going to help people. Instead I’m dealing with this jerk.”

Not quite sure what to say. It wasn’t the first time Belle had come home with the same complaints and she never did have a pep talk in the waiting. “It isn't your fault if the foster parents can't step up and actually do their part.” Ruby felt completely useless at the moment.

“The minute I got this case I just knew it was doomed. It's just so, so…infuriating.” Belle finished off her glass of wine; she turned to Ruby with a regretful expression. “Sorry, what happened to you?”

Shaking her head, Ruby took a second long sip of her now room temperature wine, “Lost my job.”

“No,” Belle gasped.

“Yes,” Ruby added with a soft nod. “You know that feeling you get for telling your boss that he is a major dick, it doesn't last long. I really hated that job anyway. I think I was starting to shed hair like an Irish Setter.” Her hair had become exceedingly thin in just the past year.  If it wasn’t Jeff or his girlfriend Ariel telling her about it, it was the plumbing bill because hunks of her hair were always clogging the shower drain. “Anyway, I overheard the guy in the cubicle next to me. They were going to let me go by the end of the week anyway. Apparently this gal who wanted my position was willing to do whatever position with the boss to get it. Men suck.”

She sunk down into the soft cushions and proper her feet on the coffee table. All she wanted was to put this day out of her mind. It was enough to tell her friend she was now unemployed, but she was too embarrassed about her attempt at running and ended up coming back smelling like sewer.

“We need more chocolate and possibly Dan Stevens,” Belle announced trying to nudge her friend out of her depressing stupor.

Ruby took another sip of wine, “At least he's pretty to look at.”

Nearly spilling her glass down her shirt at the sound of Belle’s second gasp of the evening, “Hey,” her friend swatted her arm. “I've got a great idea.”

Sitting back up and still holding her glass she downed every last drop, “I think I know what you're gonna say. It's definitely more of a Colin Firth kind of day.”

“Well, yeah, I think it is, but that wasn't my point,” she waved her hands, truly excited. “This family, my new case, I think they need a nanny to get them in line. A good one.”

Ruby remained unmoved. “Okay.”

“Someone who is young enough to connect with the boy as well and not too fond of men at the moment…”

Shaking her head and waving her hands theatrically, “Hold on there. No! Don't, Belle, just don't. I'm done with baby-sitting, kids and adults. I swear to God, it's the best form of birth control.” She had lost count of all the families she’d looked after over the years, each one caused the flame she had to burn out.

“Hear me out…” Belle tried to get out, but Ruby cut her off.

“Belle, no. Just no,” she was still shaking her head. “You know what kind of family I come from and how far it's taken for me to get here. I know you mean well-”

“Think about it. You need a job,” leave it to Belle had to add logic to the mix.

“Fine, but-”

“Sleep on the idea, please,” Belle clasped her hands together and tried to look as much like a pouting child.

With a grumble Ruby finally conceded, “Oh, fine. Just put in the DVD already.”

At least a few minutes in did the trick with Belle. She was transported back in time and to the land of Darcy whereas Ruby sat there unable to focus. No amount of Colin Firth or Dan Stevens could get her mind off the fact that she was actually considering this job.


	2. Chapter 2

A knock on her bedroom door, Ruby groaned and pulled the covers back over her head. As much as she loved her best friend Belle, she wanted to wallow in her own self-pity for a little while longer. That was not to be as the person on the other side of the door waltzed right in.

“Rise and shine, Ruby woo,” She exhaled another exaggerated groan. She hated the nickname her dear brother gave her. If Jefferson wasn’t her favorite brother, she would have wanted to slug him one. He plopped down on the edge beside her, extending a hand to peel back the covers. “C’mon get up, nothing keeps you down for long, sis. And this,” he scrunched his face. “…sloth creature doesn’t suit you.”

Propping herself up on her elbow, he was one to talk in his ratty jeans and worn out t-shirt. She reached up to bat the bill of the baseball cap he was wearing, “Sloth creature?” she repeated him, raking her fingers through her tangled mane.

“The sis from another miss told me you got fired yesterday,” he tilted his head down with a sly grin. It figures that Belle would inform Jeff. She had wanted to be the one to tell him, but embarrassed she probably would wait till she got a new job. “So, get up. And maybe, you know, tame the mane. That will scare kids.”

Taking her pillow out from under her, she whipped it around to hit him with it only to get him laughing. “Just let me be miserable for a day, please.”

“Nope,” he eased up off the bed and got a firm grip on her forearm to pull her upright. “C’mon I’ll take you to breakfast.”

She turned to see her reflection in the full length mirror against the back of her closet door. “Oh, good lord,” her hair was a frizzy mess and heavy dark circles under her eyes and quite peaked. “I look like a ghost.”

“Yeah, you’ll want some of that concealer crap you use,” he quipped as he sorted through as he loved to put it her ‘hoard of war paint’ on her dresser. “Dark circles, pale skin like a vampire, and nobody even knows where the hell Romania is,” she pushed herself out of bed and gave him a playful shove aside, as she fixed how she had her cosmetics organized. Leaning with his back to the dresser, “Ain’t life grand?”

“We’re half Romanian,” she corrected. “Half Polish.”

“Nobody remembers Poland either,” he moved to her side, draping an arm around her shoulder, directing her towards the closet, but paused before the mirror. “Listen, you never gave up on me, not for a second. I’m going to be just as annoying to you.”

Jeff always had a way of being both a major shit to her and everyone around him, but also had a heart of gold that he usually only reserved for those he cared about the most, which included her.

She reached to hold his chin bringing, squishing his face in her hands, he looked less than thrilled, pulling him close enough to kiss him on the cheek. He always hated when she did this, always telling her he wasn’t a little kid anymore.

He sneered swatting away her hand. “Couldn’t you have just hugged me or something?”

“You called me Ruby woo.”

“Fair enough,” her brother grumbled under his breath, but at least he didn’t wipe off the kiss like he did as a boy.

Glaring at her reflection, before she even thought of leaving the house she’d have to brush out her hair and yes, she definitely needed concealer.

“You’re a good brother, Jeff,” she called out to him as he left her bedroom. Thankfully Belle didn’t listen to a single thing she had said last night. Between her and Jeff, she had all the family she needed.

 

* * *

 

 

The doorbell rang and any chance of changing his mind was long gone. Hank wavered before opening the door, revealing Belle who was much like the other day less than pleased to see him, but put on a nice façade. Then there was the kid, only a little taller than Belle in her death defying high heels, still he towered over the boy. The kid’s head lowered, staring at his shoes short shaggy mop of brown hair concealed most of his facial features.

Belle cleared her throat and wrapped an arm lightly around the boy’s shoulders for comfort, “Hello, Mr. Abernathy.” Even though she said it with a smile, it was obvious at least to him that this was the last place she wanted to be.

Hank twisted his mouth into a frown, “So this is the kid. Not much of a kid, what are you sixteen?”

Finally that was enough to get a response out of the boy. The teen raised his head with narrowed eyes, the same color of his hair. “Fifteen,” Peter answered distinctly.

Rolling his eyes Hank mumbled, “Close enough.”

“All right, why don't you go on inside?” she ushered Peter inside the foyer and his eyes widened like saucers looking half solemn and half expecting this to be one big charade as Hank closed the door behind them.

He set down the small bag he’d been carrying and adjusted the strap of his backpack. His eyes circled the room trying to take everything in, even straining to get a look down the hall with no luck.

“Our apartment could fit in the hall,” Peter muttered, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“See, there's plenty of room,” Belle set down a suitcase of Peter’s at her feet. “It's not so bad here.” No matter how cheerful her voice was it did little to convince the kid or him.

“Whatever,” Peter echoed Hank’s sentiments. He really didn’t want a kid here, Peter didn’t want to be here, no one really ever wanted to stay. Sometimes even he would find excuses to leave the estate.

“Charming,” Hank motioned for them to enter the living room, but this sharp movement from the bag Peter had near his feet caught his attention. “Hold on now,” pointing in its direction “What the hell is that?”

“My cat, his name's Buttercup, like candy,” Peter nodded towards the bag then brushed some of his hair out of his eyes. “He's a little moody, but not too bad.”

 _A cat?_ It would just so happen to be a feline. He could handle a dog. Dogs were loyal and generally likeable creatures. But cats, they were all little demons. He disregarded it and hoped the feline would show him the same courtesy.

Hank’s eyes looked back at the cat trapped inside some kind of mesh bag, as his two guests entered the living room. “Something to look forward to,” he griped under his breath before following them inside.

He rarely used this room. For the most part he preferred his office or his bedroom. The rest of the house was usually forgotten. On more than one occasion Beverley pointed out saying how this was too much house for one man. But having grown up with absolutely nothing, when he made it big, as if to prove everyone who ever doubted him wrong, he laid claim on the most expensive piece of property he could find even if he didn’t give a damn about it. It was the fact that he could afford it and now it was his turn to enjoy the spoils of his small victory.

“I have some ideas I'd like to share with you two,” she motioned for them to sit. Hank thought it rather smug of Belle, as she made herself at home.

“And you really live here alone?” Peter thought aloud as his eyes took in the living room.

Hank scoffed at the kid’s question, “Not anymore apparently.”

“Let's sit down, shall we,” Belle continued, digging through his briefcase nearly half her size. Peter was the first to take a seat on the couch opposite Belle who was residing on the loveseat and had her papers spread out over the matching ottoman. Hank was the last, almost dragging his feet all the way to the couch sitting on the opposite end of Peter. “Okay, first, Peter will have to be enrolled in school. I highly recommend St. Patrick's. The teachers there are superb. And-” She plops down three fanned out folders on the coffee table. Peter peered over the upside down documents. “I suggest you hire a nanny. You know, so that no one dies on your watch. Would hate for that to go on my record again. Just kidding.”

Peter wrinkled his nose and shook his head, “That's not funny.”

Belle let out a deep breath, “I apologize.”

Hank rolled his eyes. Not only was did this kid have little to no visual personality, but he was also lacking in a sense of humor. “Lighten up, kid, will you,” he leaned back on the couch figuring this may take a while, he wanted to get comfortable. “So what kind of granny nannies do you have for us?”

Peter groaned, “Oh, God, please not some East European woman with those scarves around their heads. They freak me out.”

At least that was one thing they could agree on. Those old women often just appeared ancient, but one could never tell from the masculine veneer. “I can’t tell men from the women.” He stroked his chin as he looked over the documents. “I dunno, maybe they’re all a bunch of um...BLT’s?”

Belle slowly shut her lids as she shook her head softly, “LGBT community…Back to the topic at hand.”

He huffed a laugh at Belle’s expense, “We have a topic? Good for us.”

“Can we focus?” she rolled her eyes. Picking up the first folder, she handed it off to Peter. “Let me know what you think?”

Peter’s face contorted in confusion, “I can't tell if this is a man or a woman or both.” He gave up trying and handed it off to Hank who also was able to give a definitive answer.

Hank tossed the folder back onto the table, “If we can't tell, then pass.”

“I can't pronounce this lady's name,” Peter added looking deep in thought, his mouth trying to form the words on the top of the page.

“Let me see,” once he got the document in hand he didn’t have any luck himself figuring out what this woman’s name was. But the scarf though not reminiscent to the Easter European woman; this shroud or whatever it was still looked menacing. “We don't need the Grimm Reaper in this house.”

With her mouth agape and blinking in astonishment for the second time, “It's called a Hijab. Muslim women wear it. And again, Mr. Abernathy, I certainly hope you don't plan on saying such rhetoric around Peter.”

Hank nodded, “Oh, don't worry, I'm completely unbiased. I dislike everyone.”

“That'll be off record,” she murmured with a heavy sigh. “All right, take a look at her profile.”

She handed over the third and final cream folder to Peter and looked ready to throw in the towel on the two of them and this was only their first meeting. It wouldn’t surprise Hank. Most people could only take him in very small doses.

Peter took his time and read every detail before finally declaring, “I like her. Why isn't there a picture?”

It was almost as if the heaven’s had parted when Belle heard Peter’s small praise. She lit up instantly, “She's new, but comes highly qualified,” the lawyer gushed.

“Why not? How much does she charge?” he harrumphed glaring over the page before him.

 _Ruby Lucas?_ She had decent credentials. She was old enough not to be a concern for Peter and wasn’t too old as to be miserly with the kid. And a decent list of recommendations from previous jobs in child care.

 “For salary, I'll talk with her today. I can't guarantee she'll be available for very long…” she let the sentence hand as she tucked away the two rejected options.

“She's the best out of three and it says she's a good cook,” the kid gave his nod of approval.

Considering he was most likely going to eat him out of house and home it was best that the person they hired was able to be a wiz in the kitchen. “So that's the one you want?” he tossed the folder onto the coffee table and sat back.

Peter nodded.

Hank faced Belle, “You've got the verdict, darlin'. Do what you've got to do to get her here.” Though she was perturbed by him calling her something so unprofessional, she was too elated by the fact that they were actually making progress to let it bother her too much.

“All right, two down, one more thing,” she stared at Hank with raised brows. “The bar.”

“Pub,” he corrected. He was tired of correcting everyone, but he knew she deliberately misspoke. “And what about it?”

Adding Ruby’s folder to the rest in her briefcase, Belle continued. “I think it'd be more appealing if you made some changes to it. Maybe give it a facelift and instead of just serving alcohol, maybe add a nice menu of dishes. Which means you'll need to hire a cook.”

Hank narrowed his brows, “Getting advice about the pub from you. Isn't that like getting parenting advice from Hitler? Are the two even related?”

“Ohmygod,” Peter lamented, his hands covering his face in embarrassment. At least he could count on making the kid discomfit every now and then.

There was Belle’s distraught expression returning. He could tell she was once more regretting even coming instead of just doing all the work herself and then just telling him after the fact. “We'll come back to the bar at another time,” her voice was filled with exasperation. “I cannot wait to see how Ruby deals with you two.” She eased out of the seat steady on her heels, she gathered the items into her short arms.

“Hey a-about, Buttercup?” Peter broached the subject of the feline still trapped inside some mesh ventilated bag.

Hank was sure he heard the cat respond when it heard Peter’s voice. He waved off the kid, “Just keep the flea bag away from me and we'll get along just fine.”

Belle moved from the living room to the foyer, expecting them to follow. Hank had no problem making sure she left, he was ready to bid her a farewell before she even walked into his house.

“The movers will be here tomorrow with the rest of Peter's things. That'll do for now,” she gave Peter’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “I will be popping in sporadically to make sure things are in order.”

“Just get us the damn nanny,” he added with the snap of his fingers, “The sooner the better.”

Her eyes drifted between him and Peter, “Take care.” Though her comment was more aimed towards the kid than him as she left them as fast as she could. He was sure she had to have sprinted to her car in record speed because almost as she closed the front door, the sound of her car engine and her driving off all occurred in the matter of minutes.

The two of them stood there awkwardly both staring at the door, both wishing their previous lives back, but it was futile. Like it or not this was their arrangement.

“Thanks,” Peter broke the awkward silence first.

“For what?” Hank knew he sounded too sharp for even his liking. He’d have to work on that. Seeing as the kid just lost his mom, he could be a tad softer.

“For Buttercup,” Peter gathered the bag containing the cat in his arms and took his suitcase with his other free hand.

“Well,” even if he wasn’t a fan of the feline variety, the house was big enough that they wouldn’t run into each other that much. That made it tolerable enough. “Don't let it go to your head.”

“I won't,” the corner of Peter’s mouth curled up into a half smirk.

He had his mother’s smile. Quickly he averted his gaze, it was bad enough he felt the guilt of neglecting Brenna when she might have needed him; even if there was nothing that could have been done medically he could have at least made her as comfortable as possible in her last moments. And the more he observed the kid, the more Peter reminded him of his mother.

“And I'll make sure Buttercup stays in my room,” Peter hugged the bag to his chest.

“You do that. Oh,” he added as Peter reached the stairs. When the teenage boy turned to face him, it left him with an unsettling feeling. “If you need anything, don't come looking for me. Either look for it yourself or better yet learn to do without.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at Hank and he could have sworn it was Brenna, “Noted.” Peter didn’t say another word to him, but instead mumbled a long line of insults all the way to his room.

“What the hell, Brenna?” on his way to his office and didn’t hesitate to pour himself a glass of brandy. _What was Brenna thinking of leaving her kid in my unreliable hands?_

 

* * *

 

 

Having given up on the wanted ads by the afternoon, Ruby was still unemployed. Jeff had been more than supportive this morning and it did at least for the morning make her feel uplifted. However, no amount of calls could fix the fact that she wasn’t going to rebound after her outburst from her previous employer. It didn’t matter that she and every other female had been under the scrutiny of his sexual harassment, that wasn’t the way the world worked. Even if she hadn’t resorted to name calling she still wouldn’t have received a glowing reference.

After fixing herself a cup of tea, she crawled into bed and hoped to forget the woes of today. But even she couldn’t lose herself in the world of Austen and her leading men, no matter how many times it’d done the trick before.

For the past twenty minutes she’d been stuck on the same sentence reading and re-reading it. Placing that aside, she moved opened up her laptop and popped in her flash drive figuring she should at least give her novel another attempt. Maybe this was all a blessing in disguise…getting fired. She wouldn’t be the first writer to have to go from one crappy job to another before someone took a chance on them.

Before she got a chance to open up her folder, an alert pop up telling her she had new emails. 90% was junk, but there was one email that stood out and the sender someone she’d been waiting to hear from for nearly three months.

 

_To: Ms. R. Lucas_

_From: Callaghan & Co. Literary Agency, Ms. Worthington._

_Ms. Ruby Lucas:_

_Although I found your novel and the premise of “Child of the Moon” delightful I do not feel it is a right fit for me or the agency. With further extensive revisions as at times it felt cliché…_

 

She skimmed the rest of the email crestfallen. Adding this to the rest of her form rejection letters totaled up to over a hundred. Come morning she’d print it out and pin it up on her bulletin board with the rest of the layers of letters telling her, her work wasn’t up to par, too cliché, or her personal favorite of ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ load of malarkey.

If anything that was all the more reinforcement she needed to keep writing. With the hope of one day proving everyone, with the exception of Jeff and Belle, wrong and her novels would one day be in print.

By the time Ruby heard Belle enter their apartment hours later than expected, she’d lost track of time.

“Ruby?” Belle called out from the living room, remembering she had forgotten to turn on at least one lamp.

Not even looking away from the screen she answered her friend quickly, “In bed.” Which was sort of true. She was hunched over, her nerdy reading glasses slipping down her nose, and dressed in her ‘writer uniform’ as Jeff dubbed her ratty sweatpants and faded t-shirt. As soon as Jeff dropped her back off home, she ditched her skinny jeans and blouse for her uniform.

“Ahh,” Belle entered the bedroom, the door having been left wide open. “I see you’re in writer mode.” Ruby nodded, her fingers gliding over the keyboard of her laptop. “Hey, I've got some great news.” Belle sat on the edge of the bed.

Ruby quickly saved her work and tore herself away from the screen. Taking off her glasses and wiping her eyes from the screen’s glare. “What is that? A new case? Or is it the one that bummed you out?”

“Yes, that one, the last one. Please let me finish before you say anything,” Belle was beyond giddy and for a woman as bubbly as her friend she didn’t think much of it. Usually their excitable discussions had some kind of connection with one of their favorite television programs. “I showed them your resume and they want you. Please don't get mad.”

Slowly Ruby shut the computer and folded her glasses. Her lips pursed, “Belle, you're my best friend, you’re like a sister to me and Jeff, but where do you get off going behind my back and doing that?”

“I said, don't get mad. Just hear me out,” her friend wasn’t doing a very good job of containing her excitement. “They want you. Mr. Abernathy even said 'do what you have to, to get her.' Which I pretty sure means name your salary.”

“No. I know you mean well,” Ruby shook her head slowly, her hair falling into her line of vision, she took the locks on both parts and tucked them behind her ears. “But I don't think I can do that. Not again.”

Belle smirked smugly, “I figured you'd say that. Think about it this way. Say it is only for six months, a year at most, you could save up enough to travel anywhere you want to. This will give you time to finish your book, even start a new one. Your possibilities are endless.”

She’d be lying if the idea of the nanny job hadn’t entered her mind a time or two that day. It’d been three years since she’d accepted a long term job as a nanny and obviously trying to spread her wings as an administrative assistant- or secretary- hadn’t panned out for her. Neither had the plan of getting published before she hit the age of thirty, which was fast approaching. She was twenty-nine and what did she have to show for it? She was in the same boat as she was just three years ago. That job was tempting. “All right, you've got my attention.”

Belle gleamed, “All you have to do is whip this family into shape, which we both know you can do. They both have to do exactly as you say or risk this boy being lost in the system.”

Ruby nodded, “Sounding better.”

“And the best reward is that when they realize you know what you're doing,” she smiled softly. “They’ll have a real shot of being a family.”

Slumping back against her pillows, both her hair and her life a mess, Ruby finally conceded, “Oh, fine, you win. And you said name my salary right?”

“I think they're desperate enough to agree to it,” Belle quirked an eyebrow.

“I like desperate.”

“Oh, they have it in abundance. You give some thought to how many digits you want in pay,” Belle hopped off the bed and moved towards the doorway before back tracking. “Oh, here's the number, you'll need to call and accept the job.” She handed off a small scrap of paper ripped off the edge of a legal pad.

“Belle,” Ruby said as her friend reached the threshold. “Thanks.”

“Soon they’ll be thanking you,” Belle countered. “Good night.”

Ruby unplugged her cell phone from the charger, “Night.”

She dialed the number, but hesitated over the call button. She couldn’t pretend that losing her job wasn’t a rude awakening. And by taking this position didn’t mean she’d be giving up her writing, she liked that. If anything with the boy at school and his guardian working all day, it’d give her ample amount of time to dedicate to her own projects.

Hitting the call button and pressing the phone to her ear, yes, she knew this was the right move.

“What? Who the hell calls this late?” spoke a rather irate man on the other end of the line.

She forgot to check the time, but it didn’t really matter. “Mr. Abernathy, I presume.”

“What's with all this ‘Mister Abernathy’ shit as of late?” he grumbled.

Rolling her eyes, “I wouldn't know. Sir, this is Ruby Lucas.”

He didn’t respond right away, “And- Is that supposed to mean something?”

She took in a deep breath and held it for a moment, counting to ten. Now she knew why Belle was so insistent on her taking this job. The more she listened the more she wanted every opportunity to take control.

“If you want me to work as Peter's nanny it does. And I'd prefer a better attitude from you as well.”

He snarled a long line of obscenities under his breath, causing her face to grow warm. She was no prude for sure and she swore on occasion, but this man might even make a drunken sailor blush. “Fine, just stop by tomorrow around five,” he hung up on her.

She let phone in her hand drop to the mattress. “I have my work cut out for me.” Looking down at her closed computer. There was no hope of finishing up her edits for the night.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter stepped over a couple of boxes he’d neglected littering his bedroom floor. He strolled out of the bedroom Buttercup shadowing him. He had to stop and remember it was the stairs to his left that lead to the front hall. It didn’t take much to get turned around more times than he could count in just the one day he’d been living there. This was the kind of house his mom would dream about. She’d always wanted a house in the historic district for them and had no other choice but to settle for their small apartment on the east side of town.

Too short, Peter’s legs wouldn’t let him skip steps going up or down. Reaching the first landing he spotted his guardian near the door, Hank was there slipping on his trench coat and walking straight to the front door. Bounding down the rest of the way, Peter could feel his anxiety on the rise. This had to be the second time he’d seen him since moving in. All morning he figured that they’d have a chance of running into each other. Though not once during the day one or even when the movers came around noon did the two males cross paths.

Peter checked his wristwatch the clock was inching closer to their meeting with Ruby. “Hey,” he jutted his chin towards the door, “Where are you going?” But it didn’t seem like Hank really cared.

The man sneered a laugh. Peter didn’t see what was so amusing about the situation. “See kid, you've got things confused,” Hank fixed the collar of his trench, his hand reaching into his coat pocket for his car keys. “I don't have to check in with you, that's your role.”

“What if something goes wrong?” He knew it sounded stupid the minute it came out of his mouth, but he really hated being alone. He’d never felt more alone than now. Even with Buttercup there to keep him company. He liked knowing where everyone was at all times. Though he didn’t like Hank at all, he wanted to know where he was.

Hank glared at the kid with a side glance, “What like doomsday? A zombie apocalypse? I doubt me being here would change the circumstances. Just stay here till I get back. Don't drink any cleaners or anything.”

Peter’s shoulders drooped as he mumbled, “I'm not a baby.”

“Kids are always stupid,” he reached for the doorknob, unlocking it. “Consider that a life lesson.”

“Ms. Lucas should be here soon. She'll want to meet you.”

If anything that did more to encourage Hank to leave, “Too bad the feeling isn't mutual.”

Peter swerved to cut him off as Hank rested a hand on the doorknob, “The meeting is today. It’s almost five.”

Unmoved, Hank guided Peter out of his way, “So why am so urgently needed?” Opening the door further, Peter had no other choice but to take a few steps backwards. “I may be paying, but she's working for you. You know what you need.” He was halfway out the door when he paused. “And no girls allowed. Or boys if you’re into that kind of stuff.”

Upon hearing the front door open and close, Buttercup had soft stepped her way down the stairs and rubbed against his legs waiting for Peter to pick her up. With the tip of his finger, he pushed the curtain out of the way at the sound car engine, watching his guardian leave the cul-de-sac. He was alone again.

He lifted the thinning cat in his arms and stroked the spot between her ears. That didn’t last for long. As soon as Buttercup heard the sharp ring of the doorbell, she squirmed out of his arms, leaving a few fresh claw marks on his forearms in her descent.

There was no peephole, but who else would want to come here intentionally to see Hank? It had to be Ms. Lucas. He had no idea who she’d be, but at least he could count that since she was there working to help him that she’d be on his side. He needed that.

Pulling open the heavy front door, but not wide enough in case Buttercup wanted to dart outside. Mom hadn’t let her outside in almost ten years. “Hello,” he greeted the woman standing opposite him.

She looked nice enough. Tall, taller than him, but that wasn’t hard to believe. He’d hoped to have gotten a growth spurt, but he was still on the small side for his age bracket.

He opened the door further to get a better look at her. She was dressed nicely, a little modest, but tasteful. Her long hair dark hair pulled back into a messy side braid and dressed in a simple loose oatmeal sweater and jeans. For some reason he half expected some kind of pious woman along the line of a nun. But looking at her she appeared relatively normal in her normal state of dress.

Respectfully she extended a hand to shake his, “Hi, I'm Ms. Lucas, but you can call me Ruby.  I spoke to Mr. Abernathy last night.” He noted how her hands were soft and she had a gentle grip, vaguely reminding him of his mom.

Peter rolled his eyes, “Whatever he said, that was probably him being pleasant.  At least you know what I'm up against.” He opened the door further, “C'mon on in. Hank just left before you got here.”

Ruby took a step further entering the house with a disapproving expression causing parenthesis at the edges of her brow.

“Well, we both figured you've got the job. Anyway, he told me you're working for me and I could handle it.”

“Very well. Let's begin,” she stated as he lead the way to the living room, seated on the same couch as when Belle was here the day prior, Ruby continued taking a seat beside him letting her purse fall to the floor in a thud. “I’ll have you know I'm rather strict,” she clasped her hands over her lap, he couldn’t help but notice how poised she appeared. “I'll expect respect for me and for your guardian even if he's- um, disparaging, I'll be working on that as well. What are some of your preferences, what are you used to? Does Mr. Abernathy have and requests to your welfare?”

Peter shrugged a shoulder as he propped an ankle over his knee, “To keep me alive I suppose. And to pass all our meetings with Belle. We have a few meetings with CPS.”

“Schooling? Diet? Religious needs…” she let the sentence hang.

“Belle suggested St. Patrick's school, so you’ll have to get me enrolled tomorrow I guess. Um, I'm not allergic to anything, not that I know of,” He had liked going to church, but that had been with mom. Since then he’d been too angry with God to pray or even think of stepping inside a church. At her funeral he could hardly stand to be in the place of worship. And if it wasn’t bad enough to lose his mom, he had to move in with this jerk. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be on good terms with God in the future. “Uh, I'm not really religious anymore.”

Ruby nodded slowly, “All right.”

“What made you want to be a nanny?” he figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. To look at her, she was so nice and congenial that really it didn’t make sense that she would choose to babysit kids and rehabilitate adults.

“I, uh, grew up in a big family,” he was sure to have seen her smile waver. Obviously that was a touchy subject with her. He made a mental note of that. If he wanted her to stick around, best to stick to her rules by respecting her privacy. “So I'm used to taking care of kids.”

“I don't know why he accepted responsibility,” Peter slumped back into the couch. “I mean he doesn’t care about me.  Anyway, when can you start? I need an ally here as soon as possible.”

“I'll have to get with my brother about moving some stuff in, but I can pack a few things and start tomorrow,” she assured him.

He already liked her, “Cool.”

“I want you to know I only have two rules,” she held up one finger. “One, you always do as I say.” Nodding, the first rule was easy enough, he waited for number two. “And two, I'll stay till you want me, but don't need me.”

That’d be all good and well if they didn’t have Hank in the equation. “You may be here a while.”

Shaking her head, her lips pursed, “Every past job has lasted from six months to a year, no more. I’ve never failed to reform a family,” she let a hand sink into her purse, “Clock starts early tomorrow. I want to get you to this school and enrolled.” She pulled out a small scrap of paper and handed it over to Peter. “Oh, and give this to Mr. Abernathy, he'll know what it means.”

He glanced at the line of numbers before sticking it in his back pocket of his cargo pants as they got up from their seats, “Cool. See you tomorrow,” and escorted Ruby to the door. Once she had driven off, here he was alone again. Figuring it’d be a while before Hank would come home. He went into Hank’s office in search of the address for MacDalgarn’s Pub. The one issue was it being on the other side of town.

Pulling out his billfold, he searched and barely had enough for cab fare, but it was either that or have to be alone in this estate. Quickly calling a cab once they pulled up to the house, he was out of there lickity split and in only a few minutes he paid the driver and didn’t give it second though entering the pub.

A little dark on the inside, it could definitely use some better overheard lighting. And the small crowd of drunks and a lone bartender behind the counter who shook his head as soon as he saw that it was a teenage boy who brazenly entered the establishment.

“Sorry, laddie, you’re most certainly not old enough to be in here,” the man spoke in a thick brogue.

The boy proceeded to the counter, “Actually, I'm Peter, the one Hank took in. Is he still here?”

The bartender pointed with his thumb behind over his shoulder, “Go through those doors,” the Scotsman nodded towards the on the other side of the room, “His office is at the end of the hall.”

Thanking the man, Peter strolled past the tables and pushed through the two way doors. The hallway leading towards was darkened, he didn’t stop till he saw one door with sliver of light streaming from underneath it. He didn’t bother to knock and just entered the office.

Upon seeing him Hank sat up in his desk chair, “What now?”

Peter didn’t reply immediately as he dropped his backpack into one of the chairs in front of the desk, “Ruby came and she said she's starting tomorrow. Oh, and she told me to give you this, it has some numbers which I think is her salary.”

“Fine,” he mumbled. “What's the damage?”

He stuck a hand in his back pocket as Hank replied to pull out the scrap she’d given him and he handed it over to Hank.

Upon seeing the line of numbers, Hank let the note fall to the desk top, “Highway robbery is the correct term.”

“So you already don't like her? You haven't even met her.”

Even if he didn’t have much time to get to know Ruby, he already liked her. It helped that she was absolutely nothing like Hank. If anything there was a little bit of her that reminded him of his mom.

“When will you realize I don't like anybody,” he crumbled up the scrap and tossed it in the trash.

“She seems nice,” Peter added. “Nicer than you are.”

“That's not hard to believe, kid,” Hank retorted, his attention returning back to his work.

“Hank,” he asked after a moment he rested the palms of his hands on the edge of the rest, staring straight ahead. “Why did you want me?”

“I don't. I'm not a kid person,” Hank stated rather matter-of-factly. “Which is the reason for the nanny.”

Of course Hank had made it obvious that he wanted nothing less than to play the baby sitter role to some teenage kid. But there had to be a reason why he accepted custody of him. The man was perplexing to Peter. “But why?” It was the question that kept plaguing him since Belle notified him that Hank had agreed to take him in.

“What does it matter to you?” Hank snapped. “You're not in the system, my conscious is clear, what more do you need to know?”

“You actually have a conscious?”

“This here,” Hank pointed at him with the tip of his pen. “Just reinforces my sentiments that all kids are all demon spawns.” He returned back to the paperwork.

 Peter stepped back grabbing up his backpack plopped into the one of the chair letting the bag fall on his belly. He draped a leg over the arm, searching in his bag for, there it was, and pulled out his book, or what was his mother’s book. It may be a girly one, but it was the last one she read and never got a chance to finish, though he couldn’t keep himself concentrated on it, his stomach growling. “So what's for dinner?” He clapped the book shut.

Hank reluctantly stood up, pulled out his wallet and tossed a twenty on the desk, “Go get a pizza next door and bring it back here. Think you can do that?”

Peter grabbed up the bill and shoved it in his pocket on his way to the door. “Jerk,” he mumbled under his breath.

“I heard that,” Hank called him out, but still didn’t seem phased by the insult. Peter was more than sure the man had been called worse in his life and most likely deserved it.

“Good,” Peter spat out his way out the door going the same way he came reaching the bar area. He was so caught up in his own anger that he almost ran into Ruby.

“What are you doing here?” Ruby exclaimed.

Peter threw a thumb over his shoulder, “I needed to see Hank.” That was sort of a lie and he felt guilty for it. He didn’t need to see Hank. But despite his horrible nature, Hank was the only one he had.

“So do I. Where is he?” she refused to dither.

Peter smirked, motioning her with the tip of his index finger, “Follow me,” he swiveled on his heel leading the way. He didn’t know what was going to go down, he just wanted to be there to see it.

 

* * *

 

 

The second Ruby got into her car and pulled out of the cul-de-sac, she knew that driving back to the apartment wasn’t an option. A quick call to Jeff, between the two of them they got the information and the address of MacDalgarn’s Pub and headed on the other side of Storybrooke determined to have her say whether this Mr. Abernathy liked it or not.

She stalked down the hall, Peter leading the way and her anger unwavering. The teen opened the door to the office and a brusque awaited her, “Now what?”

Peter’s eyes looked to her and then forward, most likely at his guardian, her employer. “Uh, Ruby's here.”

“And?” the man uttered his patience growing thin.

Ruby waltzed past Peter. Her arms folded a cross her chest and her eyes narrowed glaring at the man behind the desk. “Ah, there's that winning personality.”

She enjoyed seeing this Mr. Abernathy being caught off guard. The man had to be at least twenty years her senior, but well dressed in a three piece suit and decent to look at, still didn’t do much to mask his unruly personality.

He got up from his seat and his look of surprise soon replaced with one of disdain, “What do you want now? My social so you can bankrupt me further?”

Standing her ground, if a skirmish was what he wanted then she’d be happy to give him one. “Hey, if you can find someone else for less who will put up with this shit, go right ahead. But I actually get results.”

“This is awesome,” Peter murmured next to her. So caught up with her own irritation, she’d almost forgot the boy was still present.

Turning to Peter, whose smile was spread ear to ear, couldn’t be happier that he had a backstage pass to the show. She placed a hand on his shoulder, “Give me a moment alone with Mr. Abernathy, please,” her tone dramatically softer with the teen.

“Just as it was getting good,” Peter shook his head slowly. “Typical.”

“And don't listen on the outside of the door,” he waved the boy off. “Go help Ian with...anything.”

Peter’s smile faltered as he uttered a “Fine,” on his way out.

He left the room sulking and mumbling under his breath. But he did as he was told and she heard the scuffing of his tennis shoes all the way up the hall until the sound of the two way doors being pushed with gusto was enough sign that he was out of earshot of the conversation, eh, more like quarrel.

“You still haven't answered my question.”

“We need to talk,” she remained firm. This wasn’t the first time she had to deal with a disgruntled parent. But then he wasn’t a parent by anyone’s standards. Truth be told, there was no real reason why anyone should trust the life of a teenage boy in his hands. She took a deep breath before continuing. “I'm on the clock tomorrow morning and I'd like to start with less attitude from you, which is first on my list.”

He smirked smugly, “I've yet to be tamed. What are _your demands_ then?”

Knowing he was doing everything in his power to belittle her job, just added fuel to her fire, “Before we start, you're going to listen for a change. You may not like Peter and he sure as hell doesn't like you, I doubt anyone does, but that's beside the point. That all is going to change. The three of us are going to be a team and I'm in charge whether the two of you like it or not. Demand number one: you want to pass your meetings with Belle and any CPS worker, you're going to do exactly as I say or I'm gone.”

Mr. Abernathy leaned against the side of the desk acting rather amused by her attempt to intimidate. “And what might that be?”

“You're going to take an interest in Peter and vice versa. Make him feel at home. In return he'll listen and respect you.”

“Aim small, miss small,” he ducked his chin with as he took her rules lightly. “That all?”

“Far from it. We're only getting started. Dinner, real dinner, not the take out or frozen dinners. Sit down together every night, engaging in conversation. And this bar-”

“Pub,” he was quick to correct her. “Or can you not read the sign above the awning?”

She harrumphed, “This _bar_ needs to change it sets a poor image for your situation. Finally, rule two: I'm only here till you want me but don't need me.”

“Are you don't yet?” he chided her, his voice flat.

“For now. But the challenge of you keeping Peter has just begun. You're going to be under constant scrutiny and one word from me can end this charade. Got it!”

With the facetious way he was treating the situation, gave her cause for alarm. It wasn’t the boy who needed an awakening it was this arrogant and thoughtless man standing before her.

Nodding slowly he moved from the desk, taking a few steps closer to her, “Maybe if you spent your time actually observing me instead of criticizing me, you'd see that despite your prejudices that this is a working Pub, not a bar. I may have the occasional drink, but I'm not a drunk. I built this business from the ground up along with the brewery, by myself. I know a thing or two about work ethic. As for everything else that's…doable.  Have you said your peace or would you prefer to nag a little more?”

If there was ever a moment she had to restrain herself from striking a person, it was now. It took all her fortitude not to give him a good smack across his conceited face.

“We don't need to get along, we don't have to like each other, but we will have to work together to keep that kid out of the system,” she growled. “I don't care about you, only Peter. One wrong move and you lose him. That kid deserves the best and you certainly aren't it.”

His smirk returned, “It'll take a lot more than that to offend me.”

“Is that a challenge?” She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, the echo of two sets of footsteps leaving. Her heels of her ballet flats clicking against the old hardwood floors that needed re-stained. However it was the sight of seeing Peter behind the bar with the same employee, the two of them singing rather off key to what might be known as the most annoying song, The Proclaimer’s _500 miles_. She turned to Mr. Abernathy almost running into him, “I better not see _this_ again,” she turned around and left in a huff.

 

* * *

 

 

Hank’s eyes followed Ruby as she left the Pub, slamming the door on her way out. It had been alarming seeing her there, but what was more alarming was this…this effect she had on him. Of course he knew she would be younger, but he hadn’t expected her to be so striking. And the way she handled herself in their battle, he rather enjoyed it.

 _Stop it!_ he cautioned himself.

“Who was that?” Ian asked, but Hank was still lost in his own thoughts. Or thoughts about a certain woman and how was he going to deal with this. “Hank?”

“What?” Hank shook off the encounter to see two sets of eyes staring back at him; Ian with a confused expression and the boy with an annoying grin. “What?”

Ian leaned his elbows against the bar, “You okay, mate?”

“Yeah, fine,” he shrugged it off. “What were you saying?”

Ian narrowed his brows, “You sick or something? You seem- off.”

“I'm fine,” he rolled his eyes.

Peter snickered, “That's not what we heard.”

Ian elbowed the boy, “So who was the woman storming out your office? Tall, brunette, very attractive, and rather pissed off.”

“That was the nanny he hired,” Peter added sounding rather satisfied.

Ian cackled, “Her? Nurses sure have changed since I was a lad. Usually they had chin whiskers and a large bum. On occasion a nice mole on their chin with a wicked witch complex. But they certainly never looked like that.”

“Yes, why is it so hard to fathom? She came highly recommended by Ms. French,” he ought to stop talking now as the longer he continued the more he sounded like he was trying to convince himself over his friend. “She's got a great resume and the kid seems to like her.”

Peter nodded, “The kid does like her.”

Ian heaved a sigh, “I think it'd help your case if you didn't call him _the kid_.” He added with air quotes.

Peter held up a finger, “I second that motion.”

“Denied,” he gestured towards Ian. “If you want him, you take him.”

“She rattled you,” Ian stated rather matter-of-factly with a smug grin.

Of course she had, but he wasn’t about to admit it to Ian and certainly not to the boy. He wasn’t going to let either of them have that kind of leverage over him.

“You should have seen them in the office,” Peter had a good laugh at his expense.

“It's none of your business,” he directed his comment to Ian and then to Peter, “And you just shut up.”

“See,” Peter elbowed Ian. “I told you.”

“You see unlike the rest of the women you encounter, she didn't back down,” Ian arched a lip. He was enjoying this taunting a little too much. “Probably the first woman who ever put you in your place. And you liked it. This nurse is also quite lovely to look at.”

“Ruby-” he liked the way her named rolled off his tongue.

“Ooohhh, I like that. Ruby suits her,” Ian whistled, though he had to agree. He couldn’t deny that Ruby did in fact suit her. Ruby was perfect for her. Ian shot his friend a sly wink, “Are you going to call dibs or what?”

He held up his hand, “Let's get this clear, I do not like Ruby.” There he went and used her name again. She hadn’t even given him permission to do so. Normally he wouldn’t care, but- but he did like her in a manner of speaking. Or maybe it was something else. He was no stranger to women, he’d had his share of flings and short lived relationships, but this woman, she did rattle him in a way he wasn’t comfortable with.

“I get it,” Peter nodded, his gaze lowering and lips pursed followed by a sly upward glance and a grin, “You've already fallen for her.”

Ian was quick to chime in, “It happens to the best of us, mate. I was happy as a clam, until Belle walked through those doors.” He got almost a dreamy stare that was more irritating to Hank than anything.

“So when are you going to make your move?” Peter waggled his eyebrows.

“That's it. In my office and bring the pizza with you,” His tone sharp. “Not up for discussion. Go.” When Peter didn’t move, he reached over the bar and got him out by the collar until they were both in the office. “I need to get better friends.”

“Or you could just get a girlfriend?” Peter smart mouthed as he collapsed into the chair nibbling on a slice of pizza.

“I've had plenty of women in my life over the years. I'm a bachelor by choice.”

“I can tell you made a lasting impression,” the teen wrinkled his nose. “If only a beautiful single woman would just walk right into your life?”

“Just shut up, kid,” Hank ignored the urge to call Belle up and ask if there was any possibility to sign that waver.

It took a few more smartass comments from the kid and a few slices of the pizza they had ordered in before he finally dropped the subject, for now.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

As soon as the car was in park, Ruby rushed out of her car and up the porch steps and knocked on the door hastily till her knuckles pained her. This was a fine way to start her first day. Almost an hour late thanks to her the short power outage that turned off her alarm clock. If it weren’t for Belle giving her a nudge awake, she’d still be sleeping off the miserable encounter she had with her new boss.

Peter opened the door, with a none-to-pleased expression of narrowed eyes and pursed lips on his youthful face. “You’re late,” he walked past her and towards her small sedan. By the time she turned around, Peter was getting inside the passenger seat, slamming the door shut.

There was no time to explain and despite her wanting to make all the excuses in the world, he was right. After the way she and Mr. Abernathy parted that evening, she opted to sleep one last night in her apartment and Peter wasn’t shy about showing his disappointment in her either. Though Ruby figured this would be short lived considering that they were allies in this mess.

Arriving at the academy in her work jeans with holes and hem frayed, not to mention the washed out old t-shirt that had once belonged to her brother but was confiscated years ago, that was normally reserved to write in, and her pink converse sneakers needed a good washing; all this definitely didn’t look the professional care taker and if there was any doubt, one look from the principal confirmed Ruby’s suspicions.

Once the initial paperwork was completed, they welcomed Peter as their newest addition and after the uniform was bought and paid for, the teen had apparently forgiven her and as he walked off with the dean of boys and flashed her a smile and a wave over his shoulder.

There was no time to waste, Jeff would be arriving at the apartment around ten and she needed to get to the grocery store with the list Peter had left with her. After discarding the groceries at the house, she felt like she was catching herself coming and going the whole morning because when she arrived at the apartment her brother was waiting inside already packing up odds and ends she’d left marked.

They stuffed his pickup truck and her small sedan to the brim, hoping to make it all in one trip and she lead the way to the house, but not without almost getting lost since this Victorian Queen Anne gem of a house was a little off the beaten path. Sort of made sense seeing as the proprietor wasn’t keen on people.

She gestured out the window for Jeff to follow as she pulled into the cul-de-sac and put her car in park. Thankfully she had Peter’s key on her. Hearing him kill the engine of his truck, there couldn’t be much more life in the old pickup but he was faithful to it. Ruby met him at the bed, him shuffling his feet along the way as he always tended to do.

“La-de-dah,” Jeff gave the car door a good shove to the door would close while taking a lingering gander at the outside then shot her a mischievous grin. “No wonder you took the job.” Rolling her eyes at him only garnered a snicker as he dropped the hatch of the pickup and climbed up.

“It has its perks,” holding out her hands as Jeff began handing her boxes one by one till the back was completely barren and the drive was littered. That was good enough to start on. If push came to shove she could call upon Peter to help her with some of them.

“And what is it? Only a year and you’re out of here?” he hopped down with a grumble.

Crouching down to pick up a Xerox box and lugging it in her lanky arms. “If I can't fix them in a year, then they're a lost cause.” Jeff added another, a smaller one, on top of hers before grabbing a couple heftier ones, though not without griping about the weight of her books.

Almost in single file, the Lucas siblings climbed the steps. Ruby had to shift the weight momentarily as she dug through the pocket for the house key and let them inside.

First thing Jeff did was drop them in the hall with a groan sneering as he laid a hand on his lower back, “So you think you can whip them into shape in a year?” He narrowed his brows. “Per Belle, they’re a real piece of work…or really just the guardian.”

Of course Belle told Jeff.

Ruby had just plopped her boxes next to the pile her brother started. It was only toiletries and her robe, but it was the other box in her arms that was filled with jewelry she hoped didn’t break in the process as she was then startled by hearing, “You have your work cut out for you, dear,” huffed a snarky feminine voice.

The two of them turned around almost in a harmonized style, till they faced an open door where a middle aged woman stood staring back at the brother and sister.

“Who- are you?” Ruby managed to choke out.

Mr. Abernathy wasn’t married and neither he nor Peter had at all mentioned about anyone else living here. The woman had be at least in her sixties, maybe older, graying ginger hair and amused expression on her sweet face. She was a bit short and plump, but there was this grandmotherly aura about her.

“I could ask you the same thing. But Peter told me Hank was going to hire a nanny,” the lady extended her hand to Ruby’s and then to Jeff’s. “I'm Beverley. I've been housekeeper here for years.”

“Obviously they forgot to mention you too. It's nice to meet you, I'm Ruby the nanny,” really hating the sound of that. When most people heard her say she was a nanny they would follow up with ‘Like Fran Drescher?’ The similarities began and ended with that. Ruby let go of Beverley and held her hand out gesturing to the man with her, “Um, and this is my brother Jeff.”

“Ahem, it’s Jefe actually,” her brother quipped correcting his sister.

Irritated, Ruby elbowed her brother in the ribs as a Beverley looked utterly confused, “Ignore him, he loves that joke and it’s only funny to him.”

Beverley gave them each a soft nod, “Uh…good to meet you both then. I cleaned up a bedroom for you, dear. It's the only room with the door wide open, won't be hard to find. And don't mind me. I'll only be here for a little while longer.”

Beverley stuck the ear bud back in place and hummed her way past them and into the living room. The living room was spectacular. She hadn’t taken the time to notice all the details on her last visit. A high end sofa and loveseat match. All of the furniture was either antique or looked to be custom made. There wasn’t any artwork, or family photos, only a few sparse artifacts that must be one of Mr. Abernathy’s hobbies.

Nicely decorated…maybe at one time there was a woman? She’d find that hard to believe. Mr. Abernathy was handsome for sure, but she wasn’t sure how a woman could willingly spend time with him long enough to leave a lasting impression.

 _No_ , she lectured herself. _There has to be a reason why Mr. Abernathy is the way…he is._

Jeff placed the boxes in her arms once more, “You heard Beverley,” he simpered over the lid of the box, “Let's go,” nodding towards the stairs for her to lead the way. Shaking her head at him, he could be such a little shit, but wouldn’t want him any other way. “Oh, are there anymore job openings?”

Leading the way up the stairs, as Beverley stated the door was left wide open like an arrow pointing to it, then dropped the boxes on the floor just outside. “Believe me you don't want to work here. It's going to take every amount of strength not to kill that man.” Inside the room was meagerly furnished, leading her to believe this had to be a guest room. It wouldn’t surprise her if it had never been used.

They returned to the cul-de-sac and loaded their arms with more boxes, “Well, just remember salt water gets rid of blood better than bleach,” her brother added as they passed through the hall.

“Law & Order or NCIS?” she questioned. Her brother could be a real sleuth with his years of reading mystery and crime fiction and on top of that the only shows he watched were either the real life mysteries or dramatized crime for primetime television.

“Forever, you know with that immortal dude. Anyway, Ariel got the DVD and it's really quite educational,” he added as they returned for the final load of lugging her bed frame up the stairs. Years ago she had downgraded to something simple until she made it big as a writer, that’s when she’d invest in permanent pieces. When they finished he starred at her through a squint, “Hey isn’t that my shirt?”

Straightening up, now her lower back was aching her, “It’s been five years, Jefe, you ain’t getting it back.”

Once they had navigated the old beaten up mattress up the steps, letting it flop onto the cheap frame, the both of them one by one collapsed onto it for a moment’s rest, “But seriously,” Jeff swatted at her gently with his hand, “Are you sure this job is what you want?”

He was her baby brother, well not the baby of her of the family, he was far from it. Though she had always mother-hen’d him so much he called her Mommy for a short time when they were kids. Even if he was going on thirty himself, she still saw him as this boy who had more courage in his little finger than what their parents could ever hope for.

“Yes,” which wasn’t a lie per se, but not the whole truth either. She was only taking this job for the pay, though she did like Peter a great deal. “I can put most of my salary away and save it for Europe. And with this also on my resume, I might actually be able to get an Au Pair job. Not to mention how much free time I get during the day while Peter's in school, gives me time to work on my novel.”

Jeff hmm’d, “Sounds like you've got it all planned out.”

“And that's a bad thing?” she sat up and forced herself to her feet.

What she really needed to do was go down and get the rest of the boxes out of her beat up second hand sedan. Knowing Jeff would have to return to work, unpacking was sort of a tradition they did together. What most people saw as a monotonous chore, they usually made a game of.

Sitting up next, “Yes and no,” Jeff rubbed the knots out of the back of his neck. He was always good to never complain about her constant moving. “I mean, it's good you have things figured out, but don't forget to live your life in the meantime. I know you have these plans and they’re good plans, don’t get me wrong- I just want to make sure you're happy.”

She met his gaze. His bright blue eyes, the same ones they both inherited from their father, however unlike their father, Jeff’s held warmth in them.

“I am happy,” was only added to assure him.

“All right,” he conceded, though he didn’t sound convinced. “I stand corrected.”

Before he left back for work, Beverley insisted on sending Jeff off with at least a bottle of water after he turned down everything else. He was never one to socialize much and to anyone else he’d expect some kind or reparation for all this labor, though with her, he always helped her without a second thought.

After seeing Jeff off with one of their famous hugs, Ruby strolled back into the kitchen where Beverley was putting back the cleaning supplies, “How's the unpacking going?” She said over her shoulder.

“Uh, good, actually, just taking a short break,” she did have to deal with the boxes in her car, but that wasn’t a necessary. “Am I in your way at all?”

Beverley waved off the idea, “Oh, nonsense, to be honest, it's good to have the company. Usually it's just me piddling around this house all day. It's about time this house got a woman's touch. But really Hank isn't a bad, just not the easiest to get along with.”

“Yeah, I've met him already,” Ruby sneered her upper lip, shuddering her shoulders to shake off the encounter.

Beverley guffawed, “I'd have love to been a fly on the wall there.”

“So what should I know about Mr. Abernathy?” Ruby asked.

Beverley pursed her lips, tapping her finger nails against the stone countertops, “Well…he's a decent man, just a little gruff. Has expensive taste, always dresses well. Even if he grumbles about me all the time, he pays me well. As far as I know he doesn't have any family. Never been married. He dates on occasion, but no woman in his life at the present. No kids of his own. Owns a couple of his businesses and quite the entrepreneur. And he reads a lot.”

Ruby almost felt let down. She was hoping there might give her a plausible reason as to why he was such a jerk. “No red flags then, huh?” mouth twisting in disappointment while her fingers tapped the bottled water in her hand.

“Dear, if there was even one I wouldn't be working for him,” Beverley pointed out. “Despite how he acts in public, Hank has always been good to me. When my husband passed a few years ago, he gave me a month off with pay and anything else I needed.”

“Oh,” Ruby’s brow furrowed. That wasn’t what she expected. That certainly wasn’t the man she had met yesterday.

Beverley journeyed around the island and gave Ruby’s arm a gentle pat, “Hank is just a loner. I don't know why, it isn't my place to ask. But he's always been this way for as long as I've been working for him. But he is a good man.”

Ruby listened as Beverley hummed her way out the door, leaving her alone in the house. She pulled out her phone to check the time; little more than an hour before she’d have to pick Peter up from school and that meant she had plenty of time to empty the sedan of her belongings.

Her shoulders slumped and lips formed a pout. Jeff really did have a way of make something so mundane as this much more fun than it was. Reluctantly, very reluctantly, Ruby pivoted on her heel and returned upstairs to finish putting things to rights.

 

* * *

 

 

Rushing out of the bathroom stall, Peter yanked open the bathroom door and stormed out, head down watching his shoes and not what was in front of him. All the while trying to shut out the insults hurled at him, he hadn’t even notice the kid in front of him and bumped into him as he went from point a to point b. Point b, being Ruby’s car parked out front.

As soon as he laid eyes on her sedan, he picked up his speed and quietly slid in the front seat of the car, letting his hair fall over his eyes and pulling at the noose around his neck trying to loosen it. For the life of him he didn’t understand why Hank chose to wear ties.

“How was your first day?” Ruby asked cheerfully. He hoped by now that the swelling under his eyes had gone down and that his nose had returned to its normal hue. “Wait. What is that face for?”

Peter sighed closing his eyes briefly to try and hold back the tears welling in the ducts, “It just sucked. Can we just go home?”

Home to him was back in that small one room apartment. The one where his mother slept on a fold out couch so he could have his own room. And when his mother took sick, they switched. He didn’t want this estate he was forced to live in like a criminal on house arrest. He wanted home.

“No,” she turned on the engine. “How about you and I get some soft serve and talk it over instead?”

She was trying and it was wrong of him to be so insolent. She wasn’t the enemy here. Maybe Hank wasn’t either, though it was easier to hate the man. Ruby, she was easy to like. She didn’t have to make an effort to relate to him, it was a natural instinct to her.

He’d spent enough talking today. Enough time dodging the rich brats with their high end clothes and who grew up with both of their parents and how much of a wuss was he going to sound like if he said he ended up in cornered in the bathroom being taunted by his peers. The end result was him locking himself in the stall and crying.

All he wanted was his mom back. Feeling desperate for one of his mom’s hug. No matter what the situation. No matter how bad things ever seemed. Once mom embraced him, all the cares of the world disappeared.

“I don't really feel like it,” this time his tone lacked the obtuse edge it had before.

“Peter, I'm not going to let you stew over this alone. Look at me,” her tone was soft. Giving his cheek a pat, the same way his mom did…had. “You can yell, curse, whatever...just give me a chance. I promise I'm a good listener. I’ve got references.”

That was enough to cause a lopsided smirk on his lips and he lifted his head to face her, “Make it a large cookies and cream and you've got a deal.”

She pulled out from the curb and as promised she brought him to the fast food place, he had a small bit of cash on him and planned to treat considering she was doing all this for him, but she plunked down a few bills and ushered him over to the outside bench away from prying eyes and ears.

It sort of dawned on him, to the outside world, they must appear to be mother and son. It wasn’t off the wall. She was almost thirty and he was fifteen. They even resembled each other. Ruby was a mother bear of sorts, he liked her protective nature.

“All right,” she said taking a spoonful of her soft serve. “Feel free to unload on me.”

He poked around at his cup before answering, “Word got around that I'm the charity case. Then they heard I had a nanny and they had a lot of fun with that. I just want to be invisible till I'm eighteen and I can just say good-bye to this crap. I'm just the weird kid who doodles in his notebook.”

“Screw them,” she snarled.

“What?”

“Peter, do you like yourself?” it was a simple question and one that wasn’t rhetorical, she expected an answer.

He nodded, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Screw them,” slowly enunciating her words.

Peter smirked. Ruby was much cooler than he even realized. “Yeah,” he took another bite of his ice cream. “Screw them.”

“I want you to be honest with me. And you promised to do as I say, remember,” his head bobbed north to south. “Does it really bother you though that I'm here? That I’m your nanny?”

He shook his head, “No. I-I actually like you. I mean, there's something about you that kind of reminds me of my mom.”

She blinked, her eyes becoming misty, “I think that's the best complement I've ever received.”

“I know Hank doesn't like you and you don't really like him-”

“It's not that,” sighing as she searched for the right words. “We just got off on the wrong foot. That confrontation was as much my fault, if not more, than his. Not saying he didn't have it coming, but I know better than to lose my cool.”

“So what are you writing?” He pegged her for a writer the minute he saw her and it wasn’t till she drove him to school that morning. Books, paper, and a laptop case littered the back seat of her small sedan. “Sorry. My mom says, used to say, that I'm too observant for my own good. Is it a murder mystery? Maybe a dystopian rebellion? Oh, no, a fairy tale retelling?”

She laughed lightly, with him and not at him. He’d heard enough of that today to tell the difference. “I guess I don't know what to write really. I had an idea,” she shrugged as she poked around her cup of soft serve with her spoon. “But, I dunno, it feels so unoriginal. So I'm starting from scratch.”

“You should write about yourself,” he stared at the bottom of his soft serve scrapping the bottom for the rest, when she handed over hers. He shook his head, but she insisted.

“Well, that'd be the most boring book ever written,” exhaling a laugh at herself this time.

“Think about it. All the greats took from their lives,” he went to town on the cherry cheesecake soft serve she’d ordered. “Okay, the only one I can think of is Harper Lee, but you get what I mean.”

“I'll take that into consideration. But we're not here to talk about me,” taking her elbow and poking him teasingly in the arm. “Nice try though.”

“You're good,” letting out a harrumph. His plan though faltered didn’t matter. He liked talking with Ruby. The more they talked, the more he felt better.

“Okay, spill it.”

“I did. At least most of it,” staring down into the bottom of his cup, finishing off the last of her desert, then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I cried today. I got razzed by the kids in the bathroom. When I could get away, I locked myself in the stall.” He stabbed the cup with his spoon. “I haven’t cried since mom’s funeral.”

He felt her drape an arm around his shoulders and give him a side hug, “I know you've gone through a lot of changes in the past year. I just want to make sure you know you don't have to handle it all by yourself.”

“So are we friends?” he looked up in an almost pleading sort of way. Other than his mom, well there was Buttercup, he didn’t have any friends.

“Why don't we start with that and see where it goes,” she gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“Cool. I was sure I was going to hate it, but having you as an ally. I think it won't be as bad.” However there was one more thing he needed to get off his chest. He’d tried asking Hank, but that was a waste of time and his breath. “Do you know why Hank wanted me?”

“No, but think about it,” she tilted her head to the side. “He really doesn't have anyone. Maybe he's just lonely.”

“That's plausible, darlin’,” doing his best impression by mimicking Hank’s brusque tone.

“Smart ass,” she rolled her eyes. She stood up and motioned for him to do the same. “C'mon, let's get you back home. Think you can choke down dinner for me?”

He fixed the strap of his backpack, shifting it on his shoulder. “Ruby, I'm fifteen. I'm always hungry.”

As they drove home, he caught a glimpse of her with his peripheral vision and realized something. Maybe mom had her hand in this? Maybe because she couldn’t be there for him now, so now he had Ruby. Maybe she was an angel?

What little faith he had was beginning to return.


	5. Chapter 5

By coming in from the back door, Hank half hoped he would miss seeing Ruby and Peter and at the same time coming home to something other than complete silence was actually nice. Though he wasn’t quite ready to admit to that, if ever.

A week with Ruby in the house had Peter out of his shell and for the most part, with much encouragement on her end. Then there was the home cooked meals, laughter, and for the most part he preferred to observe them rather than join in. But so long as he kept his remarks at a minimum, there wasn’t much for Ruby to complain about.

He shoved his car keys into his coat pocket and turned to find flour, canisters, and the partners in crime laughing over their mess with a light dusting of flour as well.

For the most part he let Ruby take as many liberties as she pleased so long as she kept the kid and his teenage attitude at bay. But this was pushing it even for him. If he hadn’t given Beverley a raise, when she saw this, she’d certainly quit.

“Is there a reason for this?” he was snide.

Looking up from the mess, “Oh, hey, sorry about the mess,” Ruby laughed nervously.

Ruby brushed flour off her arms unsuccessfully and laughed at her own mess. He gulped wondering how long he’d been staring at her. Even covered in flour, with her hair a mess, she was a lovely mess.

 _What the hell are you doing, Hank?_ he scolded wiping a hand over his face. _Get it together._

If he could and wouldn’t have appeared utterly insane, he would have given himself a smack. Anything to keep from how obvious this odd feeling…or whatever it was.

Hearing Peter snicker, he’d been caught red handed and the kid could very well call him out. He didn’t though and that made Hank suspicious. The kid was plotting something.

Peter smirked. Just one look at the kid he could tell Peter’s mind was swirling with one quip after another. “We're just, well, trying to make dinner. Want to help?” It sounded more like a challenge than an offer.

“No,” he restrained himself from rolling his eyes at the suggestion.

“Suit yourself,” Ruby shrugged and directed her attention back to Peter.

He figured that was the kid’s intent anyway as he exited the kitchen. The sound of their laughter carried through the hall and to his office.

The bond that he had with Ruby was close. A boyish crush on the beautiful older woman in his life was the last thing on the boy’s mind. No. He spoke of her the same way he spoke of his mother. He’d already put Ruby on a pedestal. It was a fine line and hopefully over time once the newness wore off, Peter would just lose interest.

He disposed of his coat on the rack, then his hat and was greeted by the flea bitten feline that looked quite content bathing itself in the sunspot on the window seat. Its tail moving lazily and a sly smirk on the cat’s mouth. When he entered, the cat idly lifted its head to see if it might be Peter. When she saw it was only him, she meowed her discontent and proceeded to drift back to sleep curling back into a fur ball.

 _So much for that rule to keep the cat away from him._ That had gotten flushed down the toilet after the second day when he had to call Peter to remove the cat from his desk.

With all of that, Beverley humming the same tune she always listened to, at the end of the room almost went unnoticed as she was just finishing up dusting. She removed one of her earbuds and let it dangle over her shoulder while the other one was still stuck in her ear.

“What are you doing here?” she thrust her thumb over her shoulder as if to point to the kitchen. “The brood is in the kitchen.”

“Which is the reason why I'm _here_ ,” he picked up the pile of envelopes and sorted through them.

“You know if you gave them a chance you might actually like them,” she put in her two cents worth. She knew she could get away with it too. She tried to tuck some of the ginger strands of her hair were beginning to show signs graying back with a bobby pin. “That boy is one of the nicest I’ve ever met. Much nicer than mine ever were.” She shook her head. “And Ruby, what a darling. Hard to believe she’s single.”

It wasn’t hard to believe, not for him. Women like her wouldn’t lower their standards for the regular rounder’s and the rest of the subpar male population. He knew what Peter saw in her. She was alluring and…and even if he tried he had a hard time finding fault with her.

He wasn’t a religious man, hadn’t stepped foot inside a church since he was Peter’s age. Though the way Ruby dropped into both of their lives was almost as if she was some kind of angel sent from heaven.

Beverley was still singing Ruby’s praises, enough to that she hadn’t caught him lost in his own thoughts.

“Hold on. I do not pay you for advice, Beverley,” he cut her off. “If I wanted that I'd go to a shrink.”

“I'm a mother, of course I'm a therapist,” he heard her mumble as she collected her items as she made her way out of the room. “This is the reason why no one ever wants to be around you.”

She had meant for that last bit to have gone unheard, but once Beverley got on a rampant, her voice always raised and her words began to jumble together the more irate she became.

“Means I'm doing my job.”

Beverley paused at the doorway. Shifting all her items to one arm, and pointed at him with yellow glove covered hand, “I don't think you mean that for one moment.”

“Just because I'm looking at you while you talk doesn't mean I care,” he said rather matter-of-factly.

Beverley pursed her thin lips, “There's a word for men like you. It begins with a _B_.”

And she wanted to say it too. It wouldn’t be for the first time either. All of that was forgotten when Peter was heard walking up the hall and a small knock on the inside doorframe as the kid caught the tail end of the conversation.

Both he and Beverley waited for the boy to speak. “Um, dinner should be done soon,” Peter lingered in the hall before looking to Beverley. “Sorry about the mess, Beverley. We'll take care of that one.”

Beverley shook her head, “Don't be silly.”

“Would you like to join us?” Peter offered. “It’s nothing special, but smells great.”

“I'll take a rain check. I'm done for the day,” she gave the teen a pat on the cheek and strolled past him, waving over her shoulder. “You have a good evening.”

She left the two of them alone. For the most part, except for dinner, the two avoided each other. Peter would rather spend his evenings having Ruby help him with his homework or in his room with the mangy cat of he called a friend. And he, well, he would prefer to spend the evening with a glass of brandy and a good read.

He wasn’t much on television. Every time he turned it on it was one reality show of a survival of the fittest or some raunchy primetime program that was on the verge of a triple x rating.

Peter hadn’t bothered to leave. In fact the kid was just staring at him. “What?” Hank finally asked.

“Do you like anything?” the teen answered Hank’s question with one of his own.

“I'm fond of seclusion and fine brandy. I'm also a fan of myself,” he spoke frankly and the caused Peter to narrow his eyes. “Now what?”

Peter shook his head slowly, “Ruby's totally wrong about you.”

“Not hard to believe,” Hank quipped.

Ruby surprised them both by coming up from behind and put her arm around Peter’s shoulders and a smile on her lips. She had this way, by just entering the room, the both of them dropping their insolence and putting on their best facade. She wanted them to be one big, well small in their case, happy family. Then that was exactly what she was going to see.

He wasn’t sure if he should thank Belle for managing to find Ruby or if this should fall apart tomorrow, he’d never let her forget it.

“What isn't hard to believe?” Ruby asked cheerfully.

Peter quick on his feet simply answered with a ‘how good the meal will be’ and the two of them were pleased when that appeased Ruby.

It was more than a hold she had on them. And it was unknowing. The two of them were able to come to an agreement. It happened her first night there. Peter came to his office to come and collect the cat and that was when the idea came to Hank.

They both wanted to do whatever possible to keep Ruby with them for as long as possible. It went as far as shaking on it, a time honored tradition of a gentleman’s agreement. That whenever Ruby was present, they’d play the part to placate her; in return the rest of the time they’d leave each other alone.

“How does it work?” Peter asked sitting opposite Hank in the office, the cat was there just to piss him off for sure. Peter just stroked the ginger hair and some came out in hunks.

Hank sat on the edge of his desk, hands in his pockets, “Well, we have to come to a condition of terms. For an instance, we agree we want to keep Ruby around.” Peter arched an eye brow and nodded. “All right, so my terms are as long as she’s present, that you at least pretend to respect me and I’ll do the same.”

Peter looked deep in thought, “Okay, I can agree to that.” He raised his head. “And I guess my terms are…” he let the sentence hang as he wracked his mind. “I dunno, I guess we start acting like a father and son. Not that I would know anything about that.”

Hank nodded, “All right, I can agree to that,” he didn’t have much experience in that department, but he’d give it a try. He somehow managed to create two companies. Parenting couldn’t be much different. How hard could it be really? Taking a hand out of his pocket he went to reach for Peter’s hand. “Anything else you’d like to add?”

Peter shook his head, his hair swaying with him, “So we just shake on it and it’s legal?” He clasped Hank’s hand.

“It’s not legal per se,” he searched for the right words. “It’s like the honor system. Men used to settle deals this way for centuries, I think.” He was sure at least most of that was true.

He felt Peter grip his hand as they shook on it, their deal was struck.

“We can’t lay it on too thick, or she’ll blow our cover to smithereens,” Peter said after they’d made their deal, letting his hand drop to his side. “And one mistake, she’ll call Belle.”

He nodded, the kid was right, “Then we make it gradual so it’s believable.”

And so far for the past week it’d worked like a charm. Ruby was happy. Peter and he appeared to be growing together as a family. All was well.

The two of them were chatting on their way to the kitchen, all the time he wondered how long he and the kid could keep up this charade.

Before leaving the office, he caught another glimpse of the cat on the window seat, stretching with a smirk, but the minute the doorbell rang, she jolted off the window seat, running past him and up the stairs, her long loose hair leaving a trail behind her.

“I’ll have to remember that,” he told himself as he opened the front door. Belle standing on the front porch and to her side was a man he had only a vague recollection of. “Humph, it's you,” he opened the door further. “What’s this all about?”

Belle stepped through into the hall, “Good to see you too, Mr. Abernathy.”

That was a lie and he knew it.

“One of your surprise visits, fantastic,” he motioned for the man to enter. He took a few steps into the hall calling to Ruby and Peter. “You two might want to get in here.”

Ruby was the first to make an appearance and after a questioning look, she spotted Belle and the extra guest and her smile turned from the genuine one he looked forward to, to a nervous one accompanied with a light laugh.

“What...oh, hey, Belle,” Ruby swallowed. She stopped where Hank was and called for Peter. “Peter, Belle is here and with a friend.”

“Hey, Belle,” Peter strolled out of the dining room rather nonchalant and with a rather unimpressed expression on his youthful face. He gave Belle a weak wave before his eyes reached the guest. “Who’s this guy?”

Belle held out her hand to the man with her, “Um, this is Craig with CPS. But you have the right to an attorney present, so I came along.”

Ruby’s attention went to the kitchen and then back to Craig, “Uh, everything…we’ve been making dinner. Things got a little messy.”

“Hey,” Peter pipped up. “You should stay, don't you think so?” He directed his attention to Hank, waiting, knowing he couldn’t say no. The little demon had something planned…the kitchen. That was it. Let the CPS agent see the kitchen, landing them, no him, in hot water.

Hank smirked, “I have no objections.” He called the kid’s bluff. The two shared a side glance seeing which one would waver first.

“That sounds just...lovely,” Belle nodded but her voice lacked enthusiasm. Causing both Hank and Peter to face her. “Thank you, Peter. I’m sure it will be delightful.”

Peter still had that gleam in his eye, “I'll show you to the dining room.” He guided them onto the dining room, Craig eyeing the hall and most likely the rest of the house with scrutiny.

Once they were out of sight, he felt Ruby swat him, “Why did you give the okay?” she may have lowered her voice, but the anxiety was still present. “We barely stand each other.”

“Hey, don't gripe to me about it. The kid went rogue on us.”

She nodded slowly, “We've got to fix this. If Peter did this purposefully, he is going to bate you all evening.”

 _If?_ There was no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. The kid did this to make him look bad. It didn’t matter if he was acting out or if this was all some joke…whatever reason the kid chose to pull this, they had to act quickly.

Then he heard it. He listened as Craig was speaking with Peter and Belle in the dining room. “I've got it,” he backed away. “Just keep Craig occupied.”

“Please don't screw this up,” she almost pleaded.

“Thank you for that outstanding vote of confidence. Just trust me for once. I got this,” he took a few more steps backwards. “Try to keep the kid as quiet as possible.”

“Fine,” Ruby practically hissed at him before turning and disappearing into the dining room with the rest of their unexpected dinner party.

As soon as Ruby is out of sight, he darted to the office, closing the door behind him and picks up the phone dialing the number to the pub. Impatiently he waited to hear it ring almost three time, making it feel like a lifetime, till he heard Ian’s brogue on the other end picking up.

“Hey, want to get a chance to make a good impression with Belle?” Hank interrupted his friend midsentence. “And this friend she brought with her, the CPS guy sounds to be Scottish, lowlands Scotland to be exact. Be here as soon as possible. You know you’re both Scotsmen so I’m sure you can find something to talk about.”

Ian exhaled on the other end, “Not all Scots know each other, mate. It doesn’t work like that.”

“What does it matter?” Hank griped into the receiver. “Belle’s here so that means I’ve got you reeled in whether you like it or not, _mate_ ,” there was no doubt in his mind that Ian was already halfway out the door.

Ian grumbled something before answering, “Fine, I'll be over shortly.”

Hank checked every two minutes, pacing the floor of the foyer till he heard the car door shut and Ian’s footsteps on the front porch. Before Ian even had a chance to ring the doorbell, Hank pulled him inside.

“All right,” Ian shook off his friend’s arm. “This better be worth it.”

“Just go on. Dining room's that way,” he ushered Ian on.

When the two men entered the dining room, Ruby’s shoulders slumped as if they had for certain lost this battle.

“Belle, you remember, Ian Gold,” Hank reintroduced them.

Belle furrowed her brow, “I’m afraid not.”

Peter snickered, nearly spitting out his water across on Craig. Ian’s demeanor spiraled from elated to downhearted.

Ian reached out to shake Belle’s hand and then Craig’s, “I work with Hank at the pub.”

“Wait,” Craig spoke up. Everyone, except for Peter, paused. “You have to be from Glasgow. It has been ages since I’ve heard another Scotsman.”

“Aye,” Ian shook Craig’s hand. The two Scots spent most of the dinner reminiscing about the lowlands of their homeland and Belle chiming in was enough to keep both Ian and Craig occupied and distract them from a brooding teenager and two apprehensive adults.

“I told you so,” Hank muttered to Ruby midway through the meal. She rolled her eyes, but the twinkle returned in her blue eyes was gratitude enough for him.

 

* * *

 

 

She wasn’t sure how he managed it. How he was able to pull it off without a hitch? It was a miracle if she ever saw one. Ruby was so grateful she could have kissed him if it weren’t crossing the borders of indecorum.

By inviting Ian, not only did it help to win over Craig, but she noticed by the time they all left, that Belle was equally smitten with Ian.

As retribution for his actions, Ruby ordered for Peter to clean every nook and cranny of the mess they created. When he opened his mouth to protest, she held up a finger to silence him, “You’re lucky you’re getting off this easy. Count your blessings and get to work.”

Leaving the kitchen, she almost ran into Hank and jumped. “Don’t do that.”

“What, walk around my house?” he quipped.

She wanted to roll her eyes, “Listen, I don't know how you managed it, but inviting Ian did the trick.”

A sly smirk tugged on the corners of his mouth, “No need to sound so surprised, sweetheart. Despite your first impression of me, I'm not a bad guy.” He shrugged. “Just not much of a people person.”

She survived the first week there and she was sure by the end of it she’d be running out of there and begging for her old job back. Instead both of the guys had done everything to make her feel at home. Little efforts here and there, but it was better than nothing at all. And then tonight, she finally decided, she did like Hank after all.

“I stand corrected,” she hugged herself feeling a little awkward.

“Wait,” he paused bringing a hand to his chest. “Wait, was that an admission of _you_ being in the wrong and _me_ being right.”

She pursed her lips withholding her sarcasm, “Just accept it and move on. Don't let it go to your head.” She strolled past him and towards the landing of the stairs before pausing. “And contrary to your first impression of me, I'm not a frigid bitch.”

“I never said frigid,” he admitted honestly. He extended his hand. “Truce?”

Repeating his words, she shook his hand, “Truce.”

It was a while until Peter finally came up to say good-night and that came with a side of an apology. He was a good kid and she knew more than anyone how teenagers will push the limits on just about anything.

As she lie in bed that night, her eyes weary, but her mind fully awake. Her mind going through the day like one would do with a check list.

She noted this as the second stepping stone. The first was her and Peter trusting her. The second was Hank trusting her and her trusting him. Now her third step was in motion. Subtly getting Hank to go from guardian to prospective father. What he didn’t know was that he was already warming up to the idea.

Her one year job was hastily shortening. And sooner than expected they’ll want her, but not need her.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Early November

 

The charcoal pencil dropped to the table and Peter picked up the eraser to remove the flaw he’d just done. Rubbing too vigorously at his blunder that he almost erased a portion larger than he would have liked. Somewhat symbolic of sorts given his current predicament. The first month went smooth enough. Enough. Peter expected that after the hiccup Hank would call off the gentleman’s agreement they shook on, but not once did he bring it up. He waited a few days, still no mention of it. After a month of the three of them living together, it would appear that it had been forgotten altogether. And except for having to come collect Buttercup from Hank’s home office every day, Ruby who when he needed it helped him with his homework, and he for the most part spent his time with Ruby or Buttercup. There was no one at the academy that he would care to socialize with.

The only class that got him through every miserable day at the new prestigious academy was art. He kept to his seat in the back, away from the social butterflies and popular elite.

He was hunched over his notebook doodling away, minding his own business when he felt a fist punch him in the shoulder, knocking him off balance and the line he was trying to draw a darker shade than he should prefer.

“Hey, loser, that’s pretty cool.” He looked up to see a girl, maybe a year or two older than him. Tall and gangly with jet black hair stopping at her sharp jawline. Blockish cut that resembled the angular shapes of a sharp bob with bangs from the 60’s mod style. Bold horn-rimmed glasses sat on her nose and dominated her pointed and narrow structure of her face. She was dressed in a mix of gothic platforms and black lace, and anything vintage to create her precise uniform. Much time and effort went into creating this distinct look.

The girl with her hands shrouded with a bell sleeve and fingerless gloves stuck her hand between his face and his notebook with dominance. “Guess we’re partners. I’m Johanna.”

Begrudgingly he shook her hand and tried to go back to his sketch. He got it in his mind to do a drawing of Belle and so far it was a great likeness to her. The charcoal pencil was defining the cheek bones that stretched taut whenever she smiled even the smallest of smiles.

The gothic student refused to let him be. Leaning over him with her palm pressed against the table and her shadow affected his lighting from the fluorescent lights in the school room. “Who’s that, your sister?” Johanna peered down at his artwork, dark eyes to match the rest of her exterior.

“She’s my guardian’s lawyer,” reply short and curt, he didn’t bother to look up, he was almost done constructing her the parenthesis formed at her charming smile and he hated to be interrupted whenever he caught the perfect atmosphere. Losing himself in the art and forgetting the world around him.

A disgruntled groan, Johanna plunked herself down beside him, tossed her bag onto the table, “Here try this,” she pulled out her notebook letting it slap beside his. The girl hummed as she flipped through the pages till she landed on the one she was looking for. She flipped the cover around the spiral spine and revealing her own self portrait sketch. She wrinkled her nose at the image and he found this humorous. She was an attractive person and yet the way she drew herself spoke otherwise.

“It helps me to get the bridge of the nose just right.”

Peter’s eyes widened, reaching to draw the book side by side with his to compare. If he weren’t so impressed with her skills he would have disregarded her intrusive behavior. And by the end of the class the two of them were exchanging techniques, sharing past sketches and annoying the teacher with their endless cackling all the way through the rest of the school day and emerging outside, their conversation still strong.

Ruby pulled up only a minute late and almost missed seeing her car reach the curb when at how well he was getting along with Johanna. Surprised how punctual Ruby always was. Whereas some of the kids with two parents had to sometimes wait a good twenty minutes, he was among the first to leave the campus grounds and it was a small victory for him.

As soon as Ruby got out of the car, Peter left his place and approached his nanny, motioned for Johanna to follow, “Hey, Ruby, I want you to meet Johanna,” he stuck out his thumb to wag in Johanna’s direction. A mannerism Ruby found rude from the disapproving expression on her face. “She and I have art class together.”

Johanna extended her hand to shake Ruby’s and used the other to adjust her large glasses, “Hi, Miss Lucas, Peter's said a lot of about you.”

“All good I hope,” Ruby dropped her hand from Johanna’s and hugged her jacket closer to her. Warding off the chill.

The air was still damp from the October rain. They’d gone almost a couple months without it through July and August. He could remember his mom talking about the yellowed grass fried by the sun. Now they were at the other extreme facing flood warnings every day as they approached the Indian Summer. It wouldn’t be much longer before fall would turn into winter.

Johanna snorted out a laugh and elbowed Peter, jutting her thumb towards him as he had with her. “You're like a saint with this one.”

“Ruby, is it okay if Johanna comes over for a while?” his soulful brown eyes matched his voice, pleading with her to say yes.

It was a school day, tomorrow was a school day and up till now they never had reason to discuss having friends over. The only human friend he had was Ruby.

“I don't see why not. Sure,” Ruby gave her approval through a sharp nod. Though she wagged her finger at him smile breaking the supposed strict demeanor. “But I want your homework done before bed. You'll have to get on it right after dinner.”

“Of course,” he said emphatically, smile lighting up his face. He forgot how nice it was to actually have a friend. It’d been years, maybe ten when he palled around with the neighbor kids until the moved away and then it was just him again.

That settled Johanna took the liberty to open the door to the back seat and slid in, already pulling out her smart phone shooting off a text to her parents. Peter was going to follow suit, but Ruby stopped him midway.

“So is she someone you're interested in?” she said her voice low and a sly smirk on her lips.

“Nah,” he shrugged. “Even if I was, she's already got a girlfriend.”

Ruby raised her brows and twisted her mouth, “Ah, okay then. Noted.”

He slipped into the back seat and Ruby drove them back to their house as they continued to talk. Occasionally she’d look in the rearview mirror to check on them, but the reflection of her always shown an amused smile on her face.

 

* * *

 

 

He was a little more than an hour late when Hank got out of his vehicle and drudged up the steps. The instant he walked through the front door, the aroma of dinner was a pleasant greeting to his sense and other than some of Ruby’s music from the kitchen, the house was quiet as a dormouse.

Discarding his keys onto the table in a clash, his trench coat damp from the foggy mist, and hat to dry on the coatrack. A quick stop into his den and disposed some documents out of his briefcase onto the desk. About to take a load off in his desk chair, when that lazy damn old cat stopped him.

Hank harrumphed, annoyed with the little beast who infiltrated the room each and every day.

It wasn’t that he disliked animals, dogs were nice he wouldn’t mind having a faithful canin around the house. They were always elated to see people and would go out of their way to please and protect those they loved with a fierce loyalty. But cats… cats were all the same miserable creatures.

“C’mon, get your lazy ass up and out of my chair. Don’t make me ring the doorbell,” he tried to threaten just to coax the feline awake, but she just stretched out her paws before scrunching them up, curling into a ball of orange fluff. “Peter!” He yelled from the spot he stood. “Come get this mangy pest before I call the exterminator.” There was no response so he stepped out of the office and called up from the foot of the stairs. “Kid, get the damn cat out of my office. We had a deal.”

There was some laughter from the kitchen, “Peter’s up in his room playing video games with a friend.” Ruby hollered, the echo of her honey voice reaching his ears. “Probably can’t hear you.”

 _Figures,_ he thought as he climbed up the stairs. It was something he promised when he moved in and it was something Peter often neglected. Naturally the nasty furball would gravitate towards his territory.

Reaching the top of the stairs he was stopped by the sound of not just Peter’s voice, but another one. A feminine voice, in the kid’s bedroom, and the door was shut.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” the girl exclaimed, voice reaching the hall in a bellow. “Ohhh!” she added with a belly laugh.

“Man, that was awesome,” it was Peter’s voice this time.

He wanted to storm in with accusations of whatever kind of misconduct that was going on, but he couldn’t move. Shoes frozen in his place outside Peter’s bedroom door, half alarmed by what he might find. Peter who had an innocent enough look about him, even had Hank fooled after all this time.

“I know right,” this girl stated amused. “Where did you learn to do that? I’ve tried to months to get to that level and you blew me away.”

“Hey, you play enough, you figure it out,” the boy added with a chuckle.

That was it, he opened the bedroom door to see Peter sitting on the edge of a bed with a girl, she was peculiar too look at. Under all that black was pale skin like that of a vampire, but there was no accounting for taste. “Peter, out, now,” he demanded.

Peter narrowed his eyes, “What for?” no momentum to actually get up and move.

Hank was ready to pull out of the room by his shirt collar. “You don't ask the questions, out now.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Fine.” Following Hank into the hall, he left the door open a crack.

“What the hell was all that?” Hank gestured to the bedroom. “And who the hell is that?”

Peter folded his arms across his chest and let out an _ugh_ , “That's Johanna. She's a friend from school. What's the big deal? Ruby was cool with it.”

“I don't give a damn if Ruby was 'cool with it',” he spat out as his was frustration mounting. “I don't want you knocking up some girl on my watch.”

“I don't even like her,” Peter argued. “Besides she's…”

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose, “This isn't difficult to comprehend. How are you not getting this?”

“Nothing happened,” the teen fought back. “We're just playing games.”

Hank scoffed, “Does it look like I care? You're a couple of teens with hormones. You should know that no girls are allowed in your room. It isn’t rocket science.”

The door whipped open and this Johanna stood in the doorway with a smirk on her lips. She looked a bit on the odd side with her boxy haircut and elaborate makeup.

“Chill, dude,” she planted one hand on her hip, the other on the doorframe. “Nothing happened and nothing's gonna happen. Ever.”

“Sure,” Hank drawled out to mock the young teen. “Now I feel at ease.”

Johanna laughed haughtily, “I'm a lesbian. You know the kind that digs chicks not dudes.”

His eyes darted from Johanna and then to Peter and back again. Feeling warm all of the sudden, he wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. For once he didn’t have a quip up his sleeve.

Peter stood back triumphantly, “I tried to tell you. We're,” he wagged his thumb towards Johanna and then back to Hank. “…Just friends.”

“Now can we go back to crushing the next level?” Johanna was quick to chime in. “Or are we going to stand around in the hall till the awkwardness evaporates?”

With nothing left to say or even anything to defend himself, he wasn’t used to being caught off guard. “Fine, go on,” he added gruffly, just because he hadn’t felt the sting of mortification in years didn’t mean he still wasn’t pissed off at the two kids.

Peter smirked, “We'll leave the door open. You know,” brow arches and wicked smirk on his lips, “So nothing happens.” He added that little wink to add insult to injury.

Hank brushed off the comment, “Close it. I'd prefer it.”

Johanna turned on the heel of her platform shoe and went back into the bedroom, “Wow, your dad is so weird.”

The kid looked directly at him, “He's _not_ my dad.” After that hit, Peter stalked off into his room, slamming the door behind him. There was a muffled, “Thank God!” from the kid’s friend.

He never pretended to be this boy’s father, the kid had one somewhere out in this world, but the guy apparently couldn’t step up and do right by this kid or Brenna. However the boy knew he struck a nerve just the same.

He had enough listening to the kids most likely having a good laugh at his expense and went down to the kitchen as Ruby was rummaging through the fridge. When she met his gaze, she was holding a head of lettuce in her hand and a small plastic bag filled with tomatoes in the other.

“Oh, hey, I’ve got to use up this lettuce, want a salad with dinner?” she had already made her decision as she piled out more of the ingredients onto the island countertop.

“Yeah, whatever,” his mind was still distracted by what Peter had said. It was true, but the longer he thought about it the more it smarted. “Why didn't you tell me about the girl? That she was a…”

“Lesbian?” she finished his thought. “Sorry about that. Peter told me when I picked them up after school. It slipped my mind before I heard you calling for him.”

“And it isn't weird?”

Ruby shook her head, “They were paired up in art class and really hit it off.” She began chopping up the lettuce and throwing it into a bowl. She paused before slicing up the tomatoes.  “It's just she's the only friend he's been able to make other than Buttercup. I know Johanna is a bit-”

“Abrasive,” he spoke frankly. Maybe if he’d been introduced to her properly, he’d have a different sentiment towards her. Meeting her in Peter’s room wasn’t the kind of first impression he wanted.

“Yes,” she nodded. “That doesn't mean it'll last. But right now, he needs friends.”

Hank exhaled, “You should have told me. That they were,” he waved a hand, only followed by a shudder from shoulder to toe, “…you know.”

“Oh, no, what happened?” she wasn’t sure if she was stifling a laugh or waiting to see what a fitting reaction should be.

“I met her for myself, let's just leave it at that,” he didn’t want to relive the embarrassment all over again. No, he didn’t want to relive that simple sentence that still caused him to ache in a way he didn’t realize was possible. _He’s not my dad._ Why did that bother him so much?

 “I'm sure Peter will be down shortly to gripe about me anyway.”

“He doesn't...” she began, though he gave her a look to say he knew better. “Okay he does. He's just a teenager. I know you're trying-”

“Don’t,” he shook his head and exhaled a heavy sigh. “In your opinion, is this working?” When she didn’t reply right away, he had his answer. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

He didn’t say anything else and neither did she as he left the kitchen and into the foyer the sound of the two kids still upstairs and when he returned to his office the cat was still there in his office chair.

“What the hell was I thinking taking a kid on?” he talked to himself, but the cat responded when she heard his voice and let out a soft mew. “I’m in way over my head.”

Maybe it was more of a mistake taking Peter in than letting a more suited and well-rounded family care for him?

 

* * *

 

 

Ruby stabbed the hunk of lettuce remaining on the cutting board in a fit. Here she was caught between a rock and a hard place. The voices of the two teens bellowed in the upstairs hall and everything was quiet in the front part of the house. It would be best to wait till the dust settled to sit Peter down.

Johanna was the first voice to echo through the tunnel of sound into the kitchen as if she were wearing a microphone. “Yes, but who is a household name? Gustav Klimt or Pablo Picaso? Just saying.”

“You two have fun?” she removed the butcher knife from the lettuce before they could see it and she continued to chop up the rest.

“Yeah we were just playing Zombie Wars,” he leaned his forearms on the island countertop and grabbed a piece of cucumber popping it into his mouth.

Johanna guffawed, “I was playing. You were getting your ass kicked.”

Peter disregarded Johanna’s comment and reached for another slice of cucumber. “Is it okay if we get a snack?”

Ruby eyed Peter with a smirk. Him and his bottomless pit of a stomach, “Sure, help yourselves. Dinner will be done shortly so Johanna if you want to stay its fine.”

“Thanks, Ruby, but my brother is in town tonight. My sis should be picking me up soon,” she adjusted the strap of her messenger bag across her body. “He should be arriving in an hour so we're doing a big dinner for him. He's in the Navy so we don't get to see him all that much. I will take a rain check though.” She said walking backwards to the hall. She waved to them both over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Peter.”

Peter waved back as Johanna strolled out the back door. He reached to the middle of the island for an apple and took a bite out of it. Juice ran down his chin, nothing that couldn’t be remedied with the swipe of his sleeve. “Hey, thanks for being so cool about Johanna,” he took another bite, but this time she handed him a napkin before he could get the cuff of his uniform any stickier.

“I'm just glad you two hit it off, really,” she moved onto the celery. “She marches to the beat of a different drummer and I respect that.”

“At least someone can see it that way,” he said with an eye roll. “Hank was really putting on the dad act up there. Real thick.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Peter, I know you and Hank…” Ruby paused in search of the right word, “…aren't friends yet, but that up there was genuine concern.”

Peter looked at her as if she’d betrayed him, “You weren't there. How can you take his side like that?”

“I'm not taking sides, Peter. But so long as you're under his roof and I'm your nanny, you will be respectful,” she reminded herself to keep her cool and mentally counted back from ten.

If she didn’t have Peter right there proving her wrong, she would have thought Hank was making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe it was because she disregarded it, but whenever Hank was absent, Peter did like to point out every little fault. She wouldn’t be doing her job if she allowed Peter to talk like this. It took a pick ax to see Hank for who he was. And who he was is just a loner much like the boy. 

“What?” Peter spat out, his nose wrinkled.

Ruby exhaled, counting back wasn’t effective this time. She dropped the knife in a clank against the cutting board, “And I won't take that tone from you either. I will have respect from you as well. Do you know he didn't have to take you in? He could have waved custody of you, putting you into the system. No. He wanted you to stay with him,” she probably shouldn’t have mentioned that, but the confession left her red lips before she could pull them back in. Belle told her in strict confidence. “Remember that the next time you get annoyed.”

Peter stared at her, his jaw set. “Are we done?”

“For now, yes,” he turned to leave as quickly as possible. “Hold it,” he stopped at the doorway. “I'm only saying this because I care about you. And I want it to work out between the two of you and Hank.”

“Sure doesn't feel like it,” there was an edge in his voice, the same tone he’d used to Hank on multiple occasions, she wasn’t sure if it was that it didn’t really affect him or what it was. There wasn’t much that offended the man.

“I don't care what it feels like,” she came around the island only a few feet from him. This time she’d forgotten to keep her voice in check. “And you will not use that tone with me again or towards him either. Got it!”

“Fine,” he replied coolly. “I've got homework to start on.”

“That'll have to wait till after dinner,” she handed him the dishes. “Take these dishes into the dining room and set the table.”

He left her without another word said and the only noise remaining was that coming from her phone. The timer rang to tell her the chicken was done. She finally exhaled, wondering how she was going to get through dinner with an irate teen and not lose her temper in the process.

As they seated around the table and food ready to dish out, she and Hank chose to sit at opposite ends, her idea so that he and Peter would have to sit next to each other. Most nights this worked like a charm. That night however felt like two steps back to what they had achieved.

“Listen,” she finally spoke up, surprisingly they both met her gaze, though their expressions differed. “I know you two aren't happy with each other, probably not happy with me either. I don't care, one of you say something. And make it nice.”

There was more silence and Ruby was quite ready to just call it a quits this evening and hope that tomorrow could be a fresh start.

“Okay,” Hank paused. Hearing him first wasn’t what Ruby expected. He wasn’t known for saying much that was nice, but for once it seemed like he was trying to make an effort. “Johanna seems…interesting.”

“She is,” Peter shoveled some more of her apricot chicken into his mouth.

She had almost lost her appetite and moved the food around her plate to make it appear as if she’d done justice to the course. “How was school?”

“Good,” there was that cool tone again.

“Can I get more than two words out of you at a time?” she had had about enough of his impertinence.

Peter let the fork clank against the place, “What is it now? I'm being civil.”

“Hey,” Hank caught Peter and even her off guard that the two of them jumped in their seat. “You may not like me and I don't give a damn how you treat me, but you will treat Ruby with respect. You will do more than be civil towards her. Now she asked you a question and she deserves more than one word responses. Got it!”

If a pin dropped it could have been heard a mile away. She sat there slack jawed as the two men had a showdown of who would break first.

Peter slumped in his chair, “Yeah.” He conceded. Giving a moment before he forcibly speaks, “School was fine. Boring, but at least there's art class.” The tone was gone from his voice and softened and full of remorse.

“Uh, well,” she cleared her throat now stumbling over her words. “What are you learning in art?”

“Pablo Picaso, but I don't really like him,” he poked around at his food. “His view of expression through abstract themes is a bit bizarre even for me.”

“What do you like?” Hank’s tone was gentler this time.

Peter exhaled. He wanted to engage Hank, but didn’t want to risk getting chewed out twice in one setting changed his mind. “Gustav Klimt and Claude Monet are more my taste. Evard Munch is also good. Impressionist movement did a lot to expand the idea of color and how it makes us feel.”

The more they got Peter talking about art, the more his attitude improved.

“I like Monet,” she wanted to contribute to the conversation. “I don't know much about art really, but his piece, _Water Lillies_ is quite beautiful.”

“Was that the one who cut off his ear and sent it to his girlfriend?” Hank said between bites.

Peter shook his head a slight smile crept on his lips, “No, that was Vincent van Gogh. His work is pretty amazing. It's said his masterpiece _Starry Night_ was depicting the great divide between God and mortal man. It's also been thought to be a vision of the end of the world. Actually during World War II, a Dutch man recreated some of van Gogh's best pieces and passed them off as originals and fooled the Nazis. Afterwards he was prosecuted, but declared a hero in Holland.”

Hank nodded slowly, “You don't say. I guess you do learn something every day.”

She and Hank met each other’s gaze briefly before she glanced over to Peter and she checked another step off her list.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading "Last Wishes" this series isn't beta'd so expect mistakes. If you wish to see more or drop me a line hop on over to my tumblr (onceuponanovel.tumblr.com)


End file.
